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5399  WEST   HOLT    l£  _-•_>.«••  M<   M. 

MQNT.CLAtR, 


BRINKA: 


An  American  Countess, 


BY 

MARY  CLARE  SPENSER, 

AUTHOR    OF   "  THE    BENEFIT    OF    THE    DOUBT,"    ETC.,    ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 

SPENSER  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

329  FIFTH  AVENUE, 

1888. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1SS7,  by 

MARY  CLARE  SPENSER, 
in  the  Office  of  the  librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.  "  ONE — Two — THREE  —  FOUR  —  FIVE  —  Six  — 

SEVEN,"      5 

II.  A  SMALL  COUNTESS, 12 

III.  How  MY  BIRTHDAY  FESTIVITIES  ENDED,    ....  16 

IV.  A  STORM  WITHIN-DOORS, 20 

V.  IN  SIEGE, 31 

VI.  "  WE'RE  SURE  TO  CATCH  HIM," 40 

VII.  THE  DUKE'S  FORCED  INVITATION, 47 

VIII.  A  FRIEND  IN  NEED, 68 

IX.  PROFESSOR  WYE, 86 

X.  THE  LIONS  OF  ELM  RIDGE, 96 

XI.  THE  OSCULATION  OF  CURVES, 108 

XII.  BRINKA  WRITES, 121 

XIII.  MY  FIRST  LESSON  IN  ASTRONOMY, 128 

XIV.  "  I  TOLD  You  I  WOULD  COME," 140 

XV.  A  TRIANGULAR  ARRANGEMENT, 147 

XVI.  "  OUR  ENGAGEMENT  RING," 157 

XVII.  MARATHON, 163 

XVIII.  A  NEW  NAME 174 

XIX.  "  I  AM  so  GLAD  TO  SEE  You," 183 

iii 


1763828 


jv  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

XX.    AN  UNEXPECTED  DISCOVERY 192 

XXI.    A  SERIOUS  CONFIDENCE, 209 

XXII.    TONE  PICTURES, 220 

XXIII.  A  BOLD  SCHEME 227 

XXIV.  ON  THE  SOUND, 233 

XXV.    "  SHE  MIGHT  BE  YOUR  SISTER," 251 

XXVI.    CECIL, 262 

XXVII.  "  I  THINK  I  AM  ox  THE  RIGHT  TRACK,"    .  .  271 

XXVIJI,    A.N.OVEL  EMOTION, 280 

XXIXS  ."  HE  MUST  BE  FOUND  AT  ANY  COST,"  ....  288 

XX.X,    CAPTAIN  CORRIE'S  TACTICS, 296 

XXXI,    VpicE  BUILDING, 311 

XXXII.    "  THAT  SETTLES  THE  QUESTION," 325 

XXXIII,  >\N  IMPROMPTU  AFFAIR, 339 

XXXIV.  «' YOU'VE  ONLY  TO  SAVE  HER  LIFE,  CARYL,"  351 
XXXV.    THE  LADY  GRISELDA  SLEEPS, 363 

XXXYL.    THE  EARL  RESIGNS  BRINKA 373 

XXXyjI.    THE  DUKE  HAS  OTHER  VIEWS, 381 

XXXVIII.    '  I  AM  AFRAID  I  AM  THE  CAUSE," 390 

XXXIX.  "ALL  HE  TOUCHES  TURNS  TO  GOLD,"  .  .  .   .  400 

XL.    "HE'S  COME," 407 


BRINKA: 

AN   AMERICAN   COUNTESS. 


I. 

"  ONE TWO — -THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN  !" 

ZEBRA  called  off  the  numbers  one  by  one,  as  he 
clutched  me  suddenly  by  the  arm,  the  sharp 
blows  from  his  curry-comb  descending  upon  my 
slender  shoulders. 

Zebra  was  one  of  the  stable-boys  of  the  Red 
House,  and  had  lured  me  to  the  back  of  the  barn 
with  a  gayly  colored  "Jack,  the  Giant  Killer,"  which, 
instead  of  giving  me  to  look  at  as  he  promised,  he 
had  crammed  into  his  trousers  pocket  and  had 
pounced  upon  me. 

"  There !"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  feint  of  utter  ex- 
haustion, tumbling  himself  down  on  a  pile  of  straw, 
and  with  droll  grimaces  inspecting  his  curry-comb 
to  ascertain  the  extent  of  injury  it  had  sustained; 
"  no  one  can't  complain  but  what  I've  done  my 
dooty  by  you.  You're  seven  year  old  to  the  min- 
nit.  Cap'n  Corrie  said  you  was  born  this  day 
seven  year  ago  at  three  o'clock  p.  M.,  an'  the  town 
clock's  just  ben  an'  struck  the  time." 

If  the  time  was  one-half  as  angry  at  being  struck 


6  BR1NKA  : 

as  I  was,  it  must  have  been  furious.  Smarting  with 
pain  and  burning  with  futile  indignation,  though  too 
proud  to  utter  a  cry  or  shed  a  tear,  I  was  compelled, 
from  a  sorry  lack  of  bone  and  muscle,  to  take  refuge 
in  sullen  endurance  as  lowering  as  the  day — a  sod- 
den, biting  afternoon  in  mid-March. 

"  Gee  whiz !  little  Seven-up,"  cried  Zebra,  after  a 
series  of  hand-springs  that  I  would  not  permit  to  in- 
terest me ;  "  'taint  fair  to  up  and  be  cantankerous, 
a-hitchin'  yer  shoulders  as  if  you'd  ben  an'  got  the 
St.  Viterses,  when  a  feller's  ben  an'  illusterated  with 
cuts — as  the  comic  papers  say.  S'pose  the  whacks 
was  rousin'  ones,  what  then  ?  A  whack  or  so  aint 
nothin'.  'Cause  why  ?  Why,  'cause  you'll  git  plenty, 
fust  an'  last,  up  to  the  day  of  yer  death,  which  will 
be  the  rousin'est  whack  of  all.  Whacks  is  what 
we  was  born  for,  an'  whether  we's  gritty  an'  stands 
up  to  um,  or  is  limpsy  an'  snivels  at  um  (which  last 
aint  us,  little  Seven-up),  or  whether  we's  foxy  an' 
tries  to  dodge  um,  'taint  no  use.  'Cause  why  ?  Why, 
'cause  for  every  let  up  our  good  luck  gives  us  our 
bad  luck  lays  um  on.  And  so  the  lucks  has  it  nip- 
an'-tuck." 

Zebra  rounded  off  this  bit  of  Manichean  philoso- 
phy with  a  toss  into  the  air  of  his  curry-comb, 
adroitly  catching  it  in  its  descent  with  his  strong 
white  teeth. 

Then,  making  a  spy-glass  of  his  two  fists,  he 
affected  to  sight  me  through  them,  with  grotesque 
attitudes,  as  though  it  were  impossible  to  see  me. 

"  Gee  whiz !  what  a  Liliput !"  he  cried.     "  Why, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  * 

you  are  not  as  big  as  a  or'nary  fiver.  I  wouldn't  'a' 
believed  you  was  a  seven-upper  an'  wuth  so  many 
embellishments  if  Cap'n  Corrie  hadn't  'a'  told  us  just 
as  Red  Top  come  a-tearin'  in  from  the  kitchen.  '  I 
say,  Nance,'  sez  he, '  did  you  know  our  little  boy  out 
there  is  seven  year  old  this  day  ?'  And  what  did  Red 
Top  yell  back,  sez  you  ?  Why :  '  I  say,'  sez  she,  '  git 
outer  my  way;  he's  none  of  mine!'  An'  with  that 
she  drove  a  past  him  an'  Hi  an'  Snake  an'  Ranee 
Noney  an'  Charming  Charlie  an'  Wiry  Jack  an'  all 
on  us  with  a  blazin'  poker  in  her  hand  that  she'd 
ben  a-heatin'  red  hot  to  bingavast  off  that  white-chok- 
ered  duffer  who  had  you  out  on  the  porch  a  lolly- 
poppin'  you  with  soft  words.  But  come  now,  let's 
see  the  picter  White  Choker  gin  you,  an'  let's 
hear  the  jabber  he  told  you,  an'  you  shall  have  Jack 
an'  the  Giants  fur  yer  own,  to -make  up  fur  the 
whacks."  And  Zebra  jerked  the  book  from  his 
pocket,  opening  it  to  where  little,  valiant  Jack,  in 
lapis-lazuli  blue,  by  virtue  of  his  "  shoes  of  swift- 
ness "  and  his  "  sword  of  sharpness  "  and  his  "  invis- 
ible mantle,"  was  gallantly  engaged  in  slaying  a  huge 
gamboge  giant,  who  was  in  the  act  of  making  off 
with  two  stolen  ladies  gorgeously  arrayed  in  green 
and  gold — the  monster  having  a  stolen  lady  clutched 
tightly  in  each  of  his  hands. 

This  was  irresistible  ;  I  found  voice  : 

"  It  was  two  pictures  he  gave  me,  and  she's  got 
them  both,"  said  I,  doggedly. 

"  Who,  Red  Top  ?"  asked  Zebra,  grinning. 

"  Yes,  she  snatched  them  from  me,  and — " 


8  BRINKA  : 

"  She  did,  did  she  ?"  and  Zebra  snorted  defiance. 
"  If  there's  such  a  thing  as  snookin'  an'  hookin' — an' 
if  anybody  oughter  know  it's  me — why,  I'll  git 
them  two  picters  back  ag'in  fur  you.  But  you'd 
better  hide  Jack  an'  his  giants.  Now  propel.  Give 
us  White  Choker's  yarn.". 

"  He  said  he  was  a  missionary,"  returned  I,  quite 
mollified  that  Zebra  had  made  such  handsome 
amends  for  his  treacherous  blows.  And  I  thrust 
the  book  under  my  jacket — my  pockets,  like  the 
rivers  between  the  great  chain  of  lakes,  with  a 
mouth  at  either  end,  being  useless  as  pockets. 

"  A  missionary  !"  ejaculated  Zebra.  "  Gee  whiz  ! 
Why,  missionaries  is  good  to  eat.  They's  sent  out 
reg'lar  to  the  cannerbels." 

With  eyes  open  to  their  full  width,  I  said  that  I 
hoped  they  would  not  eat  my  missionary,  that 
if  they  wanted  some  one,  why  didn't  they  send 
her? 

"  Who,  Red  Top  ?"  interrogated  Zebra,  with  a  de- 
lighted grin. 

"  Yes,  Nance,"  I  assented,  the  bloodthirstiness  of 
all  the  Fijii's  smouldering  in  my  breast. 

"  Gee  whiz !  such  pepper-sauce  as  she'd  make," 
affirmed  Zebra,  blowing  his  breath  backward  and 
forward.  "  But  tell  us  about  the  picters." 

"  What  makes  you  always  call  Nance '  Red  Top '  ?" 
I  demanded  ;  "  nobody  else  calls  her  that." 

"  I'd  like  to  know  if  she  isn't  a  Red  Top  ?  What 
makes  you  call  hornets  hornets,  and  wild  cats  wild 
cats  ?  Gee  whiz !  I  might  call  her  wuss  'an  Red 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  g 

Top.  But  Mrs.  Corrie  Redwood,  to  please  you. 
Now  tell  us  about  the  picters." . 

"  I  hate  her !"  I  exclaimed,  with  fervor. 

"  I  guess  there  aint  no  love  lost  in  that  quarter. 
Now  for  the  picters." 

"  One  was  a  fiery  pit,  full  of  people  looking  up 
and  screaming — " 

"  Screamin' !"  interrupted  Zebra.  "  Did  you  hear 
them  scream  ?" 

"  What  nonsense !"  I  returned,  with  dignity.  "  As 
though  you  could  hear  them.  I  saw  them  all  scream- 
ing, with  their  mouths  wide  open — so.  And  they 
looked  just  like — and  there's  where  she'll  go." 

"  Who,  Red  Top  ?"  demanded  Zebra,  grinning 
from  ear  to  ear. 

"  Yes,"  insisted  I.  "  He  said  that  was  where  all 
the  wicked  folks  went ;  and  she's  wicked,  and  I  wish 
she  was  there  now." 

"  All  right,"  assented  Zebra,  with  the  most  intense 
satisfaction.  "  And  it's  a  very  perlite  way  of  sayin' 
it.  Now,  what  was  the  other  picter  ?" 

"  It  was  all  full  of  gold  streaks,  and  it  had  a  golden 
gate  to  where  everything  is  beautiful  and  good.  And 
there's  where  I  am  going  as  soon  as  I  get  big  enough 
to  find  the  way." 

"  Gee  whiz  !  what  more  ?" 

"  He  said  the  devil  was  watching  out  from  the 
fiery  pit,  but  that  all  who  looked  straight  at  the 
Golden  Gate  the  devil  couldn't  touch." 

"Gee  whiz!  what  more?" 

"  Why,  he  was  telling  me  about  the  angels  who 


I0  BR1NKA: 

live  up  there,  when  she  came  out  with  a  poker  and 
drove  him  off,  and  snatched  my  pictures  and  boxed 
my  ears  and  said,  '  Take  that  for  your  birthday !' 
and—" 

A  clear,  ringing  voice  (the  voice  of  the  woman 
Nancy,  that  always  sent  sharp  shivers  though  me) 
here  interrupted  my  narrative  by  imperative  calls 
for  "  Owen,"  then  "  Zebra." 

"  There  goes  Red  Top  a-screechin'  fur  me,"  ex- 
claimed Zebra,  with  intense  disgust.  "  I  wonder 
what's  up  ?  There  she  goes  ag'in  with  her  '  Owen 
Blythe !'  That's  my  real  name,  you  know." 

"  Is  it  ?"  I  asked,  looking  at  Zebra,  admiringly. 

"  Nobody  don't  call  me  by  it  except  now  and 
then,"  and  he  looked  thoughtfully  on  the  ground. 
"  There  she  goes  ag'in,"  he  ejaculated.  "  She  must 
'a'  bin  an'  got  her  belluses  re-leathered.  Just  put  a 
'  to  be  continnered  '  to  yer  yarn,  an'  look  sharp  that 
she  don't  git  a  squint  at  Jack  an'  the  Giants." 

"  I  say,  little  Seven-up,"  Zebra  called  out,  pausing 
in  his  flight  toward  the  house,  "  Cap'n  Corrie  an'  me 
an'  Hi  an'  Snake  an'  Ranee  Noney  an'  Charming 
Charlie  an'  Wiry  Jack  an'  all  of  us  is  off  to-night 
on  a  midnight  lay.  Don't  you  wish  you  could  go? 
Gee  whiz  !  jest  hear  her  yell !  Ef  I  don't  hurry  up 
she'll  hot-poker  me."  And  Zebra  was  off  again, 
calling  out  as  he  ran :  "  Mind  you  don't  blab 
to  Cap'n  Corrie  about  the  whacks.  If  you  do 
I'll—" 

What  I  was  to  expect  in  case  I  should  "  blab  "  to 
Captain  Corrie  Redwood,  the  head  of  the  Red  House, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  j  i 

Zebra  fully  conveyed  to  my  juvenile  comprehension 
by  a  side  jerk  of  his  head. 

I  sought  shelter  from  the  keen  air  in  the  barn, 
preferring  its  solitude  and  chill  to  the  uncertain  tem- 
perature of  the  house;  and  nested  in  hay  to  the 
eyes,  I  feasted  on  my  first  literary  banquet  with  a 
zest  as  keen  as  Jerome's  could  have  been  in  the 
works  of  Origen,  that  exhausted  his  exchequer  to 
purchase. 

The  florid  delineations  of  Jack  and  his  giants 
told  the  story,  the  text  being  as  dead  a  letter  to  me, 
at  that  time,  as  was  the  magic  word  lost  to  the  fol- 
lowers of  Hiram  with  his  assassination  at  the  gate 
of  the  Temple. 


12  JtRlXA'A; 


II. 

A  SMALL   COUNTESS. 

GROWING  very  hungry  later  on  in  the  after- 
noon, I  climbed  down  from  my  nest  in  the  hay, 
and  hiding  my  precious  book  under  my  ragged 
jacket,  I  ran  to  seek  old  Sally  in  the  great  kitchen. 
She  always  had  some  choice  bit,  tart  or  turnover, 
laid  by  for  me,  and  was  always  ready  with  sharp 
argument  in  my  behalf  to  brave  Nancy  Redwood's 
displeasure,  though  her  defense  of  me  invariably 
ended  in  defeat,  the  consequences  being  visited  on  me. 

Just  before  I  reached  the  kitchen  door  a  carriage 
dashed  around  the  turn  in  the  road,  and  I  instinct- 
ively dodged  behind  the  well-curb  as  the  quickest 
way  of  getting  out  of  sight  of  its  occupants,  without 
stopping  to  analyze  my  sudden  dread  of  being  seen 
by  them. 

The  carriage  was  a  grand  affair,  with  outriders  in 
livery,  and  was  drawn  by  four  horses  so  sleek  they 
seemed  to  be  outvying  in  gloss  the  blazoning  of  its 
highly  varnished  panels.  Instead  of  rolling  on  past 
out  of  sight,  it  stopped  at  our  house,  and  a  quick 
shame  of  appearing  before  its  finely  dressed  occu- 
pants in  my  poor  clothes  having  taken  possession 
of  me,  I  crouched  down  still  lower  behind  the  well- 
curb. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  1 3 

I  saw  Zebra  and  Wiry  Jack  fill  buckets  with 
water  from  the  trough  in  front  of  the  bar-room,  and 
I  saw  the  handsome  horses  arch  their  slender  necks 
and  drink  thirstily ;  for  the  Red  House,  as  a  swing- 
ing sign  that  bore  on  its  surface  a  gorgeously 
painted  bright  red  house  proclaimed,  was  a  public 
tavern  for  the  accommodation  of  man  and  beast. 

But  it  was  the  dainty  little  figure  at  the  carriage 
window,  in  soft,  white  furs  and  pretty  white  hat, 
with  its  white  feathers,  that  I  devoured  with  my 
eyes. 

I  had  never  seen  anything  so  beautiful— so  differ- 
ent from  all  my  surroundings.  And  when  the  car- 
riage drove  off  and  took  her  .from  my  sight,  I 
sprang  to  my  feet,  and,  sitting  astride  the  well-curb, 
began  wondering  who  she  could  be  and  where  such 
grand  people  lived.  The  stable-boys,  lounging  over 
nearer  to  me,  interrupted  my  speculations. 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Zebra,  in  his  shrill  boy's  treble, 
"  that  little  chick  in  her  white  furs  is  a  bony-fidy 
countess,  and  the  grand  gonoff  a-sittin'  in  the  swell 
carriage  beside  her  there's  a  lord,  and  he's  her 
father.  But  wouldn't  I  like  to  be  one  of  the  crowd 
to  crack  open  his  castle  for  him  ?  It  wouldn't  be 
fun — oh  !  no.  He's  a  chump,  he  is." 

"  How  do  you  know  he's  a  lord  ?  We  don't  have 
no  lords  in  America.  You've  shot  your  aged 
grandmother,"  elegantly  persisted  Wiry  Jack,  with 
a  jeering  laugh. 

"  Didn't  I  hear  the  footman  in  his  flash  livery 
when  he  opened  the  carriage  door,  while  I  was  a- 


14  BRINKA: 

waterin'  the  nigh  hoss,  say, '  Shall  I  fetch  you  or 
the  Countess  Brinka  a  glass  of  water,  my  Lord?' 
an'  didn't  my  Lord  answer  back,  '  No,  I  thank  you,' 
as  fine  as  you  please?  an'  didn't  the  Countess 
Brinka  say  the  same,  in  a  voice  like  a  silver  bell  ? 
An'  if  that's  not  proof  enough  that  he's  a  lord  an' 
the  little  white-furred  chick's  a  countess,  what 
more'd  you  have  ?  But  he's  a  chump,  he  is." 

"  What's  his  name  ?"  asked  Wiry  Jack. 

"  Can't  say ;  all  I  know  is  he's  a  '  my  Lord.'  Per- 
haps they're  a-gettin'  to  have  the  nobility  in  this 
country.  What  do  we  know  of  polertics  here  away 
off  ten  miles  from  Boston  ?  I  shouldn't  wonder  if 
they  had  a  king  an'  a  queen  a' ready  down  there  in 
Washington — an'  lords,  an'  jukes,  an'  countesses, 
and  knight  errants — though  we've  got  plenty  of 
them  here." 

"  Knight  errants  ? — what's  them  ?"  asked  Wiry 
Jack. 

"  Gentlemen  whose  business  calls  them  out  at 
night,  to  be  sure.  We're  knight  errants — Captain 
Corrie,  Ranee  Noney,  an'  all  on  us.  Robin  Hood, 
Jack  Shepard,  and  Claude  Duval  was  knight  errants. 
They  was  in  history.  I've  read  all  about  them. 
It's  some  to  be  a  knight  errant." 

"  It  don't  make  no  difference  to  me  what  name 
you  call  us  by,"  returned  Wiry  Jack.  "  Them  four 
hosses  of  that  there  Lord  of  yourn  took  my  eye. 
They  was  the  spankin'est,  high  steppin'est  hosses  I 
ever  did  see.  An' — " 

"  Gee  whiz !     There's  Red  Top  a-ycllin'  for  us !" 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  jtj 

exclaimed  Zebra,  and  the  boys  ran  off  to  the  bar- 
room. And  in  the  chill  March  air,  up  astride  the 
well-curb,  I  fell  to  thinking  or  dreaming. 

I  saw  again  the  little  girl  in  the  grand  carriage 
pass  by.  Then  came  shadowy  pictures,  or  recollec- 
tions, from  my  short  past,  and  I  saw  a  pair  of  tender 
eyes  smiling  down  wistfully  on  me  from  a  face  of 
exquisite  beauty,  and  a  lovely  form  moving  with 
gentle  grace  through  soft-carpeted  rooms  overflow- 
ing with  every  adornment  that  makes  a  home  beau- 
tiful. Then,  in  my  mental  vision,  I  saw  the  sweet 
face  so  full  of  life  grown  white  and  still,  and  the 
tender  eyes  so  full  of  light  closed  and  unresponsive. 
And  I  somehow  knew  the  sweet  face  and  graceful 
form,  that  the  glimpses  of  the  pretty  little  Countess 
had  evoked,  belonged  to  my  own  dead  mother,  and 
with  a  choking  sob  I  realized  my  utter  loneliness, 
and  I  tried  to  fathom  what  it  meant,  why  I  was 
there  where  all  were  so  different  from  me,  in  the 
midst  of  sordid,  discordant  scenes  in  which  I  had 
no  part  and  seemed  to  have  no  place. 

Old  Sally,  opening  the  kitchen  door  and  kindly 
bidding  me  come  in  and  get  my  supper,  saying  I'd 
catch  my  death  of  cold  sitting  out  there  so  long 
after  dark,  interrupted  my  melancholy  reveries. 

I  obeyed  her  summons,  but  found  my  hunger 
had  somehow  all  vanished — gone  with  the  costly 
equipage  that  contained  the  small  Countess,  who,  in 
her  white  furs  and  soft  raiment,  had  brought  to  life 
the  memory -pictures  of  my  departed  mother. 


BRINK  A: 


III. 
HOW    MY    BIRTHDAY    FESTIVITIES    ENDED. 

DARKNESS  came  soon  on  that  lowering  day, 
and  with  it  came  hail,  sleet,  and  a  mad,  howl- 
ing wind.  The  woman  Nancy  and  I  were  out  on 
the  covered  porch  witnessing  the  departure  of  Cap- 
tain Corrie,  Hi,  Snake,  Ranee  Noney,  Charming 
Charlie,  Zebra,  and  Wiry  Jack,  and  I  was  ponder- 
ing in  my  mind  what  Zebra  meant  by  a  "  midnight 
lay,"  at  which  he  had  so  mysteriously  hinted  in 
the  afternoon,  and  which  took  them  all  away  on 
that  tempestuous  night. 

They  were  very  merry,  bandying  jokes  back  and 
forth  with  the  woman  Nancy,  Captain  Corrie  alone 
speaking  not  a  word  until  just  as  they  drove  off. 

"  I  say,  Nance !"  he  called  out  then,  in  his  fresh, 
strong  voice,  "  look  well  to  the  citadel  ;  you  are  as 
good  as  a  whole  garrison  any  day.  And,  Nance, 
it's  high  time  the  little  shaver  was  abed  and  asleep." 

He  said  something  more  that  was  drowned  in  the 
noise  of  the  wheels  and  the  horses'  hoofs  as  the 
wagon  rounded  the  wooded  turn  in  the  road  close 
by  the  house. 

The  woman,  with  a  loud,  derisive  laugh,  whisked 
about  with  a  sudden  bounce  and  darted  into  the 
house,  slamming  the  door  shut  and  turning  the  key 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  ^ 

with  a  loud  click  of  the  bolt.  The  light  from  the 
lantern  she  held,  flashing  full  on  her  face  as  she 
disappeared,  revealed  its  fiery  beauty  so  darkly 
clouded  with  anger  that  I  well  knew  I  was  hope- 
lessly left  out  in  the  storm  and  dark  to  seek  shel- 
ter and  lodging  for  the  night  in  the  barn  if  I  would, 
and  that  no  appeal  to  her  would  avail  me,  how- 
ever much  I  might  call  out. 

I  knew  also  that  old  Sally,  the  only  female  ser- 
vant of  the  Red  House,  having  more  talent  for 
sleeping  than  watching,  could  never  be  made  to 
hear  me,  however  loudly  I  might  call.  It  was  in  a 
sort  of  frenzy  of  despair  I  hurried  around  and  around 
the  house,  seeking  some  unfastened  window  or  door 
ajar  that  would  admit  me  to  the  warmth  within. 

The  rimy  wet  stiffened  as  it  fell  on  my  face,  hair, 
and  clothes,  the  piercing  air  penetrated  on  electric 
wires  of  ice  to  my  marrow,  whilst  the  uncanny 
soughing  of  the  wind  awakened  mysterious  voices 
all  abroad,  as  though  the  ghosts  also  had  been 
locked  out,  and,  being  of  a  social  turn  and  afflicted 
with  pulmonary  difficulties,  were  assuring  me  in 
croupy  whispers  how  much  they  commiserated  my 
forlorn  condition — a  supposition  that  caused  me 
to  shiver  with  an  intenser  agony  than  that  of  cold, 
wet,  or  the  hunger  that  pinched  my  small  stomach. 

No  crowning  success  of  any  ardent  aspiration  of 
after  life  ever  afforded  me  one  half  the  joy  I  felt  at 
the  discovery  of  a  vacant  light  in  the  dingy,  un- 
shuttered window  to  a  little  off-room  opening  out  of 
the  great  kitchen. 


!  g  BR1NKA  : 

Clutching  the  sill,  I  darted  eagerly  into  the  aper- 
ture. But  instead  of  freeing  myself  with  one  leap 
from  the  starving  cold  and  howling  ghosts,  I  be- 
came wedged  fast,  as  though  the  house  were'a  giant 
anaconda  and  I  some  dainty  tid-bit  that,  going  the 
wrong  way,  stuck  in  the  monster's  throat. 

Whilst  thus  balancing  in  the  very  acme  of  my 
night's  misery,  uncertain  whether  I  could  force  my- 
self through  or  work  my  way  out  back  again,  or  be 
compelled,  like  the  iron  coffin  of  the  Islam  prophet, 
to  remain  suspended  in  mid-air,  I  dared  not  cry  out, 
as  my  fear  of  the  woman  Nancy  was  greater  even 
than  that  of  ghosts,  or  of  anything  I  had  learned  to 
fear  in  my  short  life. 

At  length,  inch  by  inch,  I  struggled  through,  and 
pitching  headlong  into  the  room,  with  a  last,  frantic 
effort,  I  overturned  a  bench  of  wash-tubs  in  my  de- 
scent, and  rolled  with  them  to  the  floor. 

As  hair-lifting  tales,  of  the  dangers,  escapes,  the 
captures,  trials,  and  verdicts  of  an  enterprising  fra- 
ternity on  whom  the  law  frowns,  formed  the  staple 
of  conversation  in  my  narrow  world,  in  my  guilty 
dismay  at  the  din  I  had  caused  (the  falling  tubs 
sounding  to  my  alarmed  sense  like  so  many  worlds 
crashing  out  of  space)  I  expected  that  nothing 
short  of  hanging  would  atone  for  my  temerity. 

But  no  one  came,  and  I  groped  my  way  by  the 
cloudy  light  into  the  kitchen  and  found  comfort  in 
the  smouldering  embers  of  what  had  been  a  great 
wood  fire  in  the  huge,  old-fashioned  fire-place  of 
stone,  and  whilst  smoking  like  slacked  lime  in  the 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  JQ 

thaw  of  my  frozen  clothes,  I  dozed  off  into  the  for- 
getfulness  of  my  troubles,  to  be  happy  in  the  pres- 
ence of  my  beautiful  dream-mother,  and  in  my 
dreams  to  hear  her  kind  voice,  see  her  sweet  face, 
and  feel  her  loving  touch  wrapping  me  in  soft,  warm 
blankets. 


20  BRINKA ; 


IV. 


A  STORM  WITH  IN- DOORS. 

THE  morning  was  bright  with  sunshine  and 
glistening  with  dew-drops  that  hung  gem- 
ming every  tree-branch,  fence,  and  eve-trough — for 
the  wind  and  sleet  of  the  night  had  turned  into  snow 
and  thaw  and  frost,  all  three  together,  and  had  con- 
verted the  world  around  me  into  a  fairy-land  of 
fleecy  and  sparkling  whiteness. 

I  was  out  in  the  untracked  snow  by  the  gate, 
watching  Captain  Corrie,  who,  in  a  light  sleigh,  had 
just  driven  from  the  stables.  As  he  tucked  the  buf- 
falo-robes around  his  stalwart  proportions  he  leaned 
down  toward  me  and  said  in  a  low  voice : 

"  Keep  a  quiet  tongue  in  your  head,  little  man  ; 
your  time  is  coming.  I  know  all  about  your  being 
locked  out  last  night,  and  all  the  rest.  I  am  going 
to  take  you  out  of  this  in  a  day  or  two  to  the  jol- 
liest  kind  of  a  boarding-school,  where  you  will  learn 
everything  good  and  forget  everything  bad.  Re- 
member, I  have  said  it." 

With  that  he' drove  off.  But  I  had  noticed  that 
he  kept  his  eyes  well  on  the  house,  and  I  knew  why ; 
for  I  had  discovered  that,  big  as  he  was,  his  dread 
of  Nancy  was  only  less  than  mine. 


AN  AMERICA  N  CO  UNTESS.  2 1 

The  great  spruce-tree  shielded  us  from  view  of 
the  house  though ;  and  as  I  ran  past  it  to  seek  the 
kitchen,  where  old  Sally,  the  cook,  had  always  a 
kind  word  for  me,  I  stopped  and  patted  its  bristling, 
snow-covered  needles,  as  though  it  had  intelligence, 
and  had  heard  Captain  Corrie's  words,  and  knew 
how  happy  they  made  me. 

As  I  went  by  the  bar-room  door  I  saw,  standing 
in  front  of  the  counter  with  a  round-shouldered 
back  toward  me,  a  strange  man,  on  whom  Nancy 
Redwood  was  waiting  with  the  smiles  and  bright 
glances  she  lavished  on  the  favored  visitors  of  the 
Red  House. 

Ranee  Noney  and  Charming  Charlie  (the  first 
drawing  ale  and  the  other  lounging  by  the  great, 
red-hot  stove,  softly  blowing  a  melody  on  his  flute) 
were  exchanging  nods  and  winks  behind  the  woman 
Nancy's  back,  as  I  had  often  seen  them  do  when 
she  was  particularly  sweet  on  some  male  guest. 

With  a  dread  of  the  round-shouldered  man,  and 
not  caring  to  encounter  the  woman  Nancy,  I  ran 
on  past  the  bar-room  toward  the  kitchen  door,  when 
of  a  sudden,  galloping  furiously  from  the  stables  on 
the  back  of  a  gaunt,  gray  horse,  I  beheld  Zebra 
beckoning  imperatively  to  me. 

"  Run  an'  hide,  quick !"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  se- 
pulchral whisper,  as  I  reached  him,  while  he  half 
slid  from  his  saddle  down  toward  me  in  his  agile, 
careless  way. 

"  Hide  fur  your  life  !  That  man's  come  to  carry 
you  off.  He's  got  an  institootion,  an'  works  boys. 


22  BRINK  A  : 

That's  his  hoss  an'  cutter  there  in  the  road.  It's 
Red  Top's  scheme,  an'  Cap'n  Corrie  don't  know. 
/  found  it  out,  and  I've  got  a  scheme,  too,"  and 
Zebra  stopped  to  take  breath  and  give  his  head  sev- 
eral knowing  jerks. 

"  Have  you  ?"  I  asked,  my  terror  increasing  every 
moment. 

"My  scheme's  to  go  a  blue  streak  fur  Cap'n  Cor- 
rie an'  send  him  back  here  all  flukin'." 

"  Hadn't  you  better  hurry  up  and  go  ?"  I  asked, 
a  gleam  of  hope  entering  my  heart. 

"  No  fear  but  what  I'll  hurry  up  fast  enough 
when  onc't  I  start.  Red  Top's  got  to  give  the  In- 
stitootioner  his  breakfast ;  he'll  eat  fur  six,  an'  be- 
fore he's  half  through  Cap'n  Corrie'll  come  pounce 
on  him.  Then  you'll  see  who's  boss — when  it  comes 
down  to  hard  pan — him  or  Red  Top.  I'm  sent  on 
the  fly  by  Red  Top  to  Farmer  Slack's  with  this 
here  fiery  charger  " — and  Zebra  gave  the  gray  a  cut 
with  his  whip,  causing  him  to  start  and  plunge.  "  Be 
quiet  now,  can't  you  ?  (this  to  the  horse).  He's  one 
of  the  lot  of  hosses  Hi  an'  Snake  borrowed  the 
other  day  an'  forgot  to  return — which  particular 
item  Farmer  Slack,  who's  bought  him  of  us  reg'lar, 
C.  O.  D.,  isn't  to  be  told,  you  bet." 

"  Wouldn't  he  rather  know  ?"  I  suggested,  so 
much  interested  for  Farmer  Slack  and  in  the  horse 
and  the  nimble  way  Zebra  tumbled  himself  back  up 
into  the  saddle  when  the  horse  was  plunging,  that  I 
forgot  my  fear  of  the  man  in  the  bar-room. 

"  Ruther    know  ?      Gee     whiz !     Course     he'd 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  23 

ruther.  But  folks  don't  gen'rally  git  what  they'd 
ruther.  Red  Top  'd  ruther  I'd  make  a  bee  line  fur 
Farmer  Slack's,  an'  if  she  knew  I  was  fur  a  diverge 
to  the  Strand  House,  where  Cap'n  Corrie  has  to 
stop  on  his  way  to  Boston,  she'd  ruther  see  me  cut 
up  inter  mince-meat.  I'm  off!"  And  Zebra,  flour- 
ishing a  rusty  cap  in  adieu,  terrified  the  gray  into 
motion  by  a  war-whoop,  and  to  say  he  went  like 
the  wind  is  doing  faint  justice  to  the  way  he  gal- 
loped off  through  the  snow. 

Seeing  Hi  and  Snake  going  into  the  stables,  I  con- 
cluded the  barn  would  be  the  safest  place,  and  I 
had  been  hidden  in  the  hay,  it  seemed  to  me,  a  long 
time,  when  I  heard  Nancy  Redwood  outside  shrilly 
demanding  where  that  boy  was. 

"  No  one  needn't  look  for  Miss  Maudie  (one  of 
the  names  I  went  by  at  the  Red  House)  in  the 
stables  ;  Hi  and  me's  just  come  from  there,"  roared 
Snake,  in  reply. 

"  I  see  Miss  Maudie  go  inter  the  barn  a  half  an 
hour  ago,"  exclaimed  the  gruff  voice  of  Hi. 

"  He's  hid  in  the  hay,  there's  where  he  is."  This 
last  was  the  high  treble  of  Wiry  Jack,  my  mortal 
foe,  always  in  league  against  me  to  curry  favor  with 
the  woman  Nancy. 

"  Hethe  motht  probably  athleep." 

I  recognized  the  soft  lisp  of  Charming  Charlie, 
and  was  glad  he  was  in  the  barn  with  the  rest,  for 
he  was  the  only  one  of  them  all,  with  the  exception 
of  Captain  Corrie,  who  never  teased  or  tormented 
me.  There  seemed  a  great  many  of  them,  for  their 


24  BRINKA  : 

voices  broke  in  upon  each  other  and  their  steps 
sounded  heavily  on  the  barn  floor.  Had  I  known 
anything  of  the  noble  pleasures  of  the  chase,  I 
should  have  compared  them  to  riders  and  hounds 
in  hot  pursuit  of  a  poor  little,  frightened  hare. 

I  was  peremptorily  called  by  Nancy,  and  Ranee 
Noney  (I  knew  the  incisive  tones  of  his  metallic 
voice  and  his  favorite  oaths)  proposed  setting  fire 
to  the  mow  to  wake  me  up. 

This  suggestion  was  followed  by  a  laugh,  and  I 
distinguished  above  the  others  the  mirthless,  mock- 
ing laughter  of  Nancy  Redwood,  that  always 
sounded  to  me  like  the  weird,  uncanny  notes  of 
those  large  sea-loons,  the  great  Northern  divers, 
whose  distinctly  syllabled  ha-has  I  had  often  heard 
on  a  calm  day  coming  across  the  surf  from  far  out 
on  the  rocky  reefs  where  they  fed,  for  the  Red 
House  was  on  the  bay  above  Boston,  where  the 
ragged  headlands  jut  far  out  into  the  sea. 

With  the  scratching  of  a  match  I  started  in  terror 
to  my  feet,  whereupon  Ranee  Noney  swore  he 
thought  that  would  fetch  me,  which  caused  a  great 
laugh. 

"  If  Mith  Maudie  had  only  conthidered,  he  would 
have  been  thertain  no  one  wath  going  to  thet  fire 
to  the  barn,"  lisped  Charming  Charlie,  taking  his 
flute  from  his  mouth,  on  which  he  had  been  softly 
playing,  attentive  to  what  was  passing  around  him. 

They  all  laughed  again,  and  the  woman  Nancy 
invited  me,  in  the  sweet  voice  I  well  knew  meant 
mischief,  to  descend  and  follow  her. 


AN  A  ME  RICA  N  CO  UNTESS.  2  5 

I  obeyed,  and  she  led  the  way,  the  man  with  the 
round-shouldered  back  walking  by  her  side.  When 
we  reached  the  bar-room,  where  Hi  and  Snake  had 
been  sent  to  preside,  she  bade  me,  still  in  the  same 
sweet  voice,  to  run  up-stairs  and  make  a  bundle 
of  my  clothes,  as  the  gentleman  I  saw  had  kindly 
come  to  take  me  to  his  beautiful  establishment, 
where  I  would  find  boys  of  my  own  age  to  play  with. 

I  looked  at  the  man,  who  was  hideously  grinning, 
very  evidently  flattered  by  Nancy's  attentions,  and 
his  wicked  old  face  so  repelled  me  that  I  replied  : 

"  I  had  rather  not  go,  if  you  please." 

This  created  a  great  laugh,  and  Charming  Char- 
lie, with  more  than  his  usual  careless  manner,  vol- 
unteered to  help  me  put  my  clothes  together,  and  we 
proceeded  to  the  loft,  in  which  I  slept,  he  playing 
snatches  of  melodies  on  his  flute  all  the  way  up  the 
stairs. 

Fair-haired,  blue-eyed,  well-formed,  and  well- 
looking,  Charming  Charlie,  with  manners  as  soft  as 
his  voice,  had  a  way,  when  the  others  attempted  to 
run  him  on  account  of  his  lisp,  his  flute-playing,  or 
his  mild  indolence,  of  saying  back  something  so  full 
of  humorous  point  that  he  invariably  turned  the 
laugh  on  his  antagonist. 

As  he  tied  together  the  ends  of  the  cotton  ban- 
dana, in  which  he  had  packed  the  entirety  of  my 
worldly  possessions,  we  were  vociferously  called. 

"  Come-ing !"  he  halloed  back.  But  instead  of 
going  down  below  he  went  over  to  the  dormer  win- 
dow overlooking  the  road. 


26  BRINKA : 

"  Hard  as  she  ith  to  you,  he  would  "be  a  thouthand 
timeth  worthe ;  tho  we'll  wait  awhile  for  Corrie  Red- 
wood." 

Then  I  knew,  as  Charming  Charlie  lisped  this  in 
a  low  voice,  fixing  his  blue  eyes  meaningly  on  me, 
that  he  was  in  Zebra's  secret,  and  that  the  rest  had 
no  suspicion  of  it. 

Just  as  we  were  called  for  the  third  time,  each 
call  more  peremptory  than  the  last,  I  saw  from  the 
dormer  window  Captain  Corrie's  horse  and  sleigh 
turn  into  sight  from  the  cross-roads  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  below. 

"  He  cometh,  by  Juno !  Now  we'll  go  down," 
exclaimed  Charming  Charlie,  handing  me  the  bun- 
dle. And  we  descended  to  find  Nancy  Redwood 
with  her  handsome  face  as  flaming  as  her  hair,  and 
wishing  to  know  in  words  more  strong  than  elegant 
what  had  kept  us  so  long. 

"  I  wath  thearching  for  hith  thockth,"  replied 
Charming  Charlie,  with  an  unconcern  so  dense,  as 
lie  sauntered,  flute  in  hand,  over  to  the  window, 
softly  whistling  a  popular  melody,  that  she  could 
only  exclaim  contemptuously : 

"  His  socks,  indeed !"  And  venting  her  wrath 
on  me,  I  was  jerked  by  the  arm  out  to  the  gate 
so  violently  that  I  could  with  difficulty  keep  my 
feet.  I  was  then  jerked  into  the  sleigh,  where  the 
man  with  the  round-shouldered  back  was  already 
sitting,  and  just  as  he  was  making  room  for  me 
beside  him,  Captain  Corrie  suddenly  dashed  round 
the  corner  of  the  road  close  bv  the  house. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  2/ 

My  heart  gave  a  great  leap,  and  Nancy's  tawny 
black  eyes  fairly  blazed  as  she  opened  them  wide 
upon  her  husband. 

"  You  !"  she  exclaimed,  taken  by  surprise.  "  You ! 
What  brought  you  back  ?" 

"  I  say,  Nance,"  said  he,  taking  no  notice  of  her 
surprise  or  of  anything  unusual,  "just  think  of  the 
luck !"  and  he  leaped  out  of  the  sleigh  and  threw 
the  lines  to  Wiry  Jack.  "  I  met  Kimball,  and  he 
must  have  the  horses  right  off.  So  I  had  to  drive 
back,  and — but  how's  this,  the  boy  going  for  a 
sleigh  ride  ?  Why,  Nance,  you  forgot  his  overcoat, 
and  his  teeth  clatter  like  the  bones  of  the  end  man 
at  the  minstrels.  With  your  leave,  I'll  take  him  to 
the  fire  and  let  him  warm  up  before  I  see  to  the 
horses  for  Kimball." 

Captain  Corrie  lifted  me  from  the  sleigh  in  his 
strong  arms,  at  the  same  time  fixing  a  steady  look 
on  the  man  beside  me,  who,  not  knowing  whether 
to  go  or  stay,  had  stayed,  and  who  now,  under 
Captain  Corrie's  eyes,  grew  so  manifestly  uneasy 
that  he  suddenly  drove  off  without  saying  even  a 
word  of  compliment  to  the  woman  Nancy. 

Ranee  Noney,  who  had  been  standing  in  the 
doorway  of  the  bar-room  twirling  his  fierce  red 
whiskers,  silently  surveying  the  scene,  made  room 
as  we  passed  through  into  the  house,  and  Charm- 
ing Charlie,  still  at  the  window,  turning  to  me,  gave 
me  a  side  wink  that  put  me  in  much  trepidation  lest 
Nancy  might  see  it. 

But  she  was  in  too  great  a  rage  to  notice  any- 


28  BRINKA : 

thing,  having  fairly  mounted  what  Zebra  called  her 
"  high  hoss,"  which  she  rode  so  frequently  that  it 
might  be  said  of  her,  as  of  the  warriors  of  old,  that 
she  lived  in  the  saddle.  From  her  hands  flew  mis- 
siles of  destruction — iron,  wood,  glass,  porcelain, 
and  pewter — while  from  her  lips  proceeded  such  a 
storm  of  invective  that  I  should  have  grown  quite 
warm  without  the  aid  of  the  fire  before  which  Cap- 
tain Corrie  had  stood  me  when  we  entered  the  great 
kitchen. 

Suddenly  she  pounced  upon  me,  and  I  was  jerked 
by  my  hair  out  into  the  middle  of  the  room. 

Captain  Corrie,  who  had  been  watching  her  move- 
ments and  listening  to  her  threats  in  the  apathetic 
manner  customary  to  him  on  like  occasions,  merely 
warding  oft"  the  shower  of  kitchen  utensils  that 
rained  down  on  him,  now  came  to  the  rescue.  But 
the  woman,  with  the  agility  of  a  harlequin,  avoiding 
him  at  every  turn,  leaped  on  tables,  chairs,  and 
dressers,  dragging  me  after  her,  until  finally  he 
closed  with  her,  which  brought  us  all  three  to  the 
floor. 

Captain  Corrie's  strength  prevailed,  and  I  was 
held  high  up  among  the  cobweb  festoonery  of  the 
rafters  out  of  the  woman's  reach,  who,  tossing  her 
arms  in  the  air,  declared  that  she  would  and  that 
she  wouldn't,  and  when  he  found  she  had,  what 
could  such  a  guy  as  he  do  without  her  to  plan  the 
lays  safe  for  him. 

"  No  use,  Nance,  no  use !"  was  all  her  husband  said, 
reiterating  the  disclaimer  each  time  she  stopped  to  take 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  2g 

breath  for  a  new  start,  which  she  did  by  a  jerking  pro- 
cess, as  though  she  were  a  piece  of  machinery  worked 
by  steam.  Her  supply  of  invective  at  length  becom- 
ing exhausted,  he  offered  a  variation  on  his  theme : 

"  No  use,  Nance,  the  boy  shall  be  sent  to  school, 
high  and  dry  out  of  this.  The  money  shall  be  paid 
for  him.  The  oath  I  made  his  mother — who  wasn't 
what  you  say — shall  be  kept,  and  the — " 

Here  the  woman  interrupted  him  by  a  shriek,  and 
sinking  on  the  floor  all  in  a  heap,  as  though  the 
springs  that  held  her  upright  had  snapped  from  ex- 
treme tension,  she  began  rocking  her  body  dolefully 
to  and  fro,  accompanying  each  rock  by  a  dismal  groan. 

"  Look  here,  Nance,"  said  he,  after  a  curious  sur- 
vey of  her  rocking  figure,  "  if  I  could  make  it  smiling 
sunshine  between  us  two  again  by  giving  it  all  up  to 
you  I  would.  I,  who  was  as  wax  in  the  warmth 
of  your  smiles,  am  growing  disenchanted  with  your 
violence.  This  boy's  mother,  I  have  often  tried  to 
make  you  understand,  Nance,  was  as  far  from  us 
as  the  stars.  She,  the  only  daughter  of  my  old 
boss,  and  I,  her  father's  ignorant  stable-boy,  until 
she  took  pains  with  me  and  taught  me  all  I  know, 
never  dreamed  in  her  purity  and  innocence  of  such 
lost  wretches  as  we  are.  And  it  was  my  unbounded 
reverence  for  her,  when  she  lost  everything  after  her 
father's  death,  and  her  husband — who  was  a  villain 
— had  deserted  her,  that  made  me  take  the  oath, 
and  she  dying,  to  bring  her  boy  up  to  good  things 
and  give  him  an  education  and  the  best  going.  You 
willed  the  other  way,  Nance,  and  when  you  grew 


30  BRINKA  : 

vindictive,  that  did  what  my  own  sense  of  right  did 
not  do — it  clinched  my  resolve." 

From  her  to  and  fro  rocking  the  woman  sprang 
up  with  the  elasticity  of  a  forest  animal. 

"  Here's  a  blessed  state  of  penitence  for  a  pious 
cracksman  to  be  in !"  and  she  sent  up  peal  on  peal 
of  mocking  laughter. 

I  felt  Captain  Corrie  wince,  and  wondered  how 
she  could  so  affect  his  huge  strength,  though  I  saw 
he  took  care  to  let  none  of  his  shuddering  be  seen 
by  her.  Setting  his  jaws  firm  and  hard,  he  said,  in 
an  even,  dogged  tone : 

"  Have  done,  Nance.  This  Red  House,  which  I 
am  landlord  of,  is  not  famous  for  being  pious.  And 
you  know  who  led  me  on  from  a  downy  boy  to  be  a 
cracksman.  And  you  know  who  would  still  lead 
me  on  to  as  much  worse  as  there  is  if  I  would  go  in 
for  it.  Your  power  is  great,  Nance,"  and  his  voice 
softened,  while  warm  shadows  chased  each  other  in 
his  brown  eyes,  "  and  it  is  hard  to  go  against  you, 
notwithstanding  your — " 

Captain  Corrie  was  ready  for  her  sudden  spring 
toward  me,  and  I  was  held  so  high  up  among  the 
cobwebs  that  they  choked  my  breath. 

Foiled  in  her  attempt  to  seize  me,  the  woman 
Nancy,  with  a  jeering  laugh,  wheeled  about  and 
strode  out  of  the  kitchen,  her  long,  red  hair  flaming 
after  her  like  the  receding  tail  of  a  gorgeous  comet, 
her  heels  at  every  tread  sounding  on  the  old  oaken 
floor  through  the  long  corridor  like  sharp,  successive 
strokes  of  a  mallet. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


V. 
IN    SIEGE. 

QTEALTHILY,  at  the  last  reverberation  of  the 
^-}  clicking  heels,  Captain  Corrie  carried  me  up  the 
time-worn  oaken  stairs  to  a  loft  in  another  part  of  the 
rambling  old  house  from  that  in  which  I  slept,  and 
entering  a  room  within  a  room,  carefully  locking 
the  doors  after  him,  he  laid  me  down  on  a  dusty  old 
sofa,  and  began  examining  my  bruises. 

"  You've  got  an  awful  mauling,  little  man.  A 
very  little  more  and  your  small  anatomy  would  have 
been  utterly  spoiled  for  all  practical  purposes.  I 
must  go  down  now  and  get  things  for  you,  but  I'll 
be  back  in  no  time." 

Although  he  locked  me  safely  in  after  him,  I 
quaked  in  terror  until  his  return.  I  did  not  have 
long  to  quake,  and,  from  the  huge  basket  he  brought 
with  him,  he  took  as  many  various  articles  of  use 
as  Pandora's  newly  wedded  husband  did  of  evils 
from  the  wonderful  box  she  brought  to  him. 

My  hurts  were  dressed  with  a  cooling  wash ;  a 
fire  was  lighted  in  the  rusty  old  stove,  on  which 
Captain  Corrie  cooked  porridge  for  me  in  a  bright, 
new  tin  basin,  giving  me  milk  to  drink  from  a  gilt- 
edged  mug  that  had  pink  and  blue  lambs  upon  it 


22  XRLYA'A  : 

feeding  from  the  hands  of  a  pink  and  blue  little 
girl. 

He  spread  me  a  bed  with  white  linen  from  the 
basket,  and  here  I  was  installed  with  the  assurance 
that  I  should  be  well  in  a  trice — an  indefinite  period 
of  time  supposed  to  comprise  three  seconds,  but 
capable  of  being  stretched  into  as  many  hours  or 
weeks ;  in  my  case,  what  with  the  shock  of  my  bruises 
and  my  causeless  alarms  during  the  temporary  ab- 
sences of  Captain  Corrie,  lasting  nearly  three 
months. 

One  morning,  after  an  unusually  long  absence,  he 
returned  thoughtful  and  gloomy,  and,  waiting  on 
me  in  silence  for  a  time,  he  said,  in  deep,  rumbling 
tones,  which,  taking  a  downward  inflection  at  the 
end  of  each  sentence,  sounded  to  my  ears  like  the 
wailing  of  the  wind : 

"  She's  gone,  my  boy ;  Nance  has  gone." 

"  Has  the  devil  come  and  got  her?"  irreverently 
asked  I. 

"  Not  yet,"  he  replied,  with  a  dull  smile  that 
changed  into  a  sigh,  or  rather  a  groan.  "  Her 
cousin,  captain  of  a  coaster,  a  regular  shell-back, 
came  to  take  her  home  to  her  mother,  who  is  dy- 
ing." 

"  Does  her  mother  know  ?"  I  asked. 

Fully  understanding,  Captain  Corrie  slowly  shook 
his  head. 

"  Her  mother  and  her  people  know  very  little  of 
Nance  since  she  struck  out  for  herself  and  left  her 
home  in  Nantucket,  where  she  only  vegetated,  she 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  33 

said.  Her  mother  thinks  the  Red  House  is  only 
what  it  seems — a  country  hotel — and  that  Captain 
Corrie  Redwood,  its  landlord,  who  has  horses  for 
sale,  as  well,  is  an  honest,  straight-going  man,  and 
if  she  dies  in  that  belief  all  the  better  for  her,  as 
her  husband,  Nance's  father,  went  three  years  ago." 
This,  for  Captain  Corrie,  usually  so  reticent,  was  a 
long  explanation.  But  he  looked  so  gloomy  and 
woe-begone  that  I  felt  quite  sorry  for  him,  and 
wanted  to  say  so,  but  I  only  took  his  big  hand  in 
mine  and  played  with  his  blunt,  unresisting  fingers. 

"  Do  you  think  she's  truly,  truly  gone  ?"  I  asked. 

Captain  Corrie  nodded  his  head  dejectedly  in  the 
affirmative. 

"  But,"  I  persisted,  "  she  may  only  make  believe 
go  and  then  come  up  here  and — " 

"  You  are  sharp,  if  you  are  little,"  responded 
Captain  Corrie,  stroking  my  hair  slowly  with  his 
rough  hand.  "  But  we'll  have  no  foxy  invasions. 
Nance  has  gone,  and,  what  is  more,  against  her  own 
will,  too." 

The  blustering  March  and  changeful  April  and 
sunny  May  had  worn  away,  and  I  was  still  in  the 
old  garret-room,  Captain  Corrie  tenderly  nursing 
me  all  the  long  weeks  with  unflagging  devotion. 

I  was  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  walk 
around  the  room  without  support,  when  he  came 
one  morning,  after  a  longer  absence  than  usual,  and, 
locking  the  door  after  him,  threw  himself  into  a 
great  arm-chair  and  fell  into  deep  thought. 

I  shut  my  picture-books  one  after  the  other  (Cap- 


34  BRINKA  : 

tain  Corrie  had  added  a  number  of  astonishing 
books  to  my  library  during  my  illness),  and,  regard- 
ing him  from  my  cot  attentively  and  with  increas- 
ing alarm,  I  wished  to  know  if  SHE  had  come 
back. 

"  She's  come,"  sententiously  assented  he,  without 
raising  his  head  or  taking  his  eyes  from  the  floor, 
where  they  were  fastened. 

"  Did  she  heat  the  poker  ?" 

"  Not  this  time." 

"  Did  she  pitch  into  you  ?" 

"  Rather,"  he  replied,  with  a  grim  smile  that  meant 
anything  but  mirth. 

"  Did  she  get  the  better  of  you  this  time  ?" 

"  That  remains  to  be  seen,"  he  replied,  his  eyes 
beginning  to  soften  as  they  looked  up  and  rested 
on  me. 

"  What's  to  be  done  now  ?"  was  my  last  ques- 
tion. 

"  Leave  here  on  the  double  quick,  you  and  me." 

But  instead  of  making  a  move  to  leave,  he  let 
his  head  sink  into  the  palms  of  his  hands,  resting 
his  elbows  on  his  knees.  Suddenly  starting  up — 
he  did  things  by  jerks  now — he  pulled  out  his 
watch,  exclaiming : 

"  Come,  my  boy,  it's  time  we  were  on  our  way !" 

Just  then  a  loud  knocking  came  at  the  door — 
an  event  that  had  not  before  transpired. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  my  boy  ;  it's  only  Owen, 
who's  been  blacking  my  boots."  Captain  Corrie 
never  called  him  Zebra. 


AN  AMERICAN  CO UNTESS.  3  5 

"  Gee  whiz  !  what  a  pipe-stem,  white  and  slim," 
exclaimed  that  young  gentleman,  scrutinizing  me  as 
he  was  admitted  into  the  room. 

"  How's  things  down  below  now  ?"  demanded 
Captain  Corrie. 

"  Snug  as  a  bug  an'  still  as  a  Quaker  meetin'." 

"  Have  Hi  and  Snake  got  back  ?" 

"  Not  five  minutes  ago  ;  and  they  says  to  me : 
'  I  say,  Zebra,  what's  the  row  ?'  an'  then  they 
plumped  inter  bed  with  their  boots  on." 

"  With  their  boots  on  ?" 

"  Not  that  they'd  ben  a-drinkin' — not  they — only 
dead  tired  out  with  their  tramp." 

"  And  what  did  you  tell  them  ?" 

"  I  said  that  Red  To-  that  Mrs.  Redwood  was 
back,  an'  was  a-havin'  it  out  with  you." 

"  Where's  Ranee  Noney  and  Charming  Charlie  ?" 
asked  Captain  Corrie,  gloomily. 

"  Ranee  Noney 's  'tendin'  bar,  an'  Charming  Char- 
lie's out  on  the  porch  a-playin'  the  flute,  an'  Wiry 
Jack's  in  the  stables,  an'  Red  To-  Mrs.  Redwood's 
in  her  own  room,  an'  has  double-locked  her  door. 
I  heard  her  a-slammin'  at  the  bolts  ;  an'  old  Sally's 
a — " 

"  Here  !  help  the  little  shaver  on  with  his  clothes. 
I'll  be  right  back,"  commanded  Captain  Corrie, 
hastily  quitting  the  room  and  locking  the  doors 
after  him. 

"  Olli  compolli !"  cried  Zebra.  "  Sposin'  he  forgits 
to  come  back  to  dub  the  jigger  for  us — which  means 
open  the  door — we'd  be  as  buttered  as  the  princes 


36  BRINKA:  ] 

was  in  the  tower,  who  ended  up  by  being  quinsied 
under  pillows." 

-;.Who  the  princes  in  the  tower  were,  and  what  be- 
ing quinsied  under  pillows  meant,  I  did  not  know, 
but  I  said  that  if  the  princes  were  like  Hi  and 
Snake  and  Ranee  Noney,  they  wouldn't  have  cared 
how  much  they  were  buttered. 

"  Look-a-here !"  exclaimed  Zebra,  laughing  so 
immoderately  that  he  was  compelled  to  hold  his 
sides,  "  ef  I  don't  hurry  up  and  git  on  your  togs 
(which  needn't  a-had  so  many  winders  by  severial) 
Cap'n  Corrie'll  butter  me,"  and  Zebra  helped  me  on 
with  my  trousers  and  jacket.  "  Now  for  your  trot- 
ter-cases," he  cried,  "  only  take  care  you  don't  go 
an'  put  your  toes  inter  the  wrong  openings.  There, 
my  kiddie,  you'll  do,"  and  Zebra  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  my  toilet  by  taking  from  his  neck  a  gor- 
geous satin  scarf  and  tying  it  on  mine  in  a  bow  that 
he  proclaimed  "perfectly  stunnin'."  And  then  for  my 
entertainment  he  went  through  with  a  series  of  mar- 
velous somersaults  and  handsprings. 

"  Did  you  know  I'd  been  on  a  reg'lar  circumben- 
dabus  down  to  New  York  ?"  he  asked,  springing 
upright  to  his  feet  again  with  the  lightness  of  a  cat. 

"  Have  you  ?"  I  returned,  vastly  admiring  his  ac- 
robatic powers. 

"  Me  an'  Hi  an'  Snake,  with  Ranee  Noney  as 
cap'n,  all  went,  a-leavin'  Cap'n  Corrie  an'  Charming 
Charlie  an'  Wiry  Jack  to  keep  things  a-goin'  here. 
Well,  we  cracked  open  the  Juke's  crib,  an'  then  we 
was  a-proceedin'  to — the  same  Juke  whose  car- 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


37 


riage  stopped  here  on  your  buthday,  an'  we  watered 
his  hosses.  He's  awful  swell ;  why,  a  juke's  way  up 
a'most  to  a  king.  A  juke's  as  much  above  all  of  us 
here  in  the  United  States  as  we're  above  the  Injuns. 
The  President,  even,  aint  nowheres  in  comparison  to 
a  juke.  Well,  we  was  a — '' 

"  Why  is  a  juke  'way  up  above  the  President  ?"  I 
questioned. 

"  'Cause  he  is,"  satisfactorily  answered  Zebra. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  juke's  above  the  President," 
dissented  I.  "  Captain  Corrie  read  to  me  about 
Washington.  He  was  a  President,  and  he  was  ever 
so  much  greater  than  a  king.  Perhaps  I'll  get  to 
be  President  some  day." 

"  Gee  whiz !  But  jest  you  wait  till  you  know 
more  of  the  world,  an'  then  you'll  see  what  a  juke 
is  ;  why,  everybody  knuckles  down  tight  to  a  juke. 
Well,  after  we'd  cracked  open  his  crib  fur  him  an* 
was  a-proceedin'  to  biz  in  his  swell  mansion,  where 
everything  was  the  gorgeousest  you  ever  did  see,  who 
should  come  a-flyin'  down  the  great,  wide  stairs  but  the 
Juke's  little  daughter,  all  blazin'  with  di'mons,  an' 
with  a  little  Skye  a-tearin'  after  her  a-yelpin'  like 
mad.  An'  the  way  we  four  duffers  rushed  out  er 
that  air  Fifth  Avenue  mansion  was  somethin'  to  tell 
of.  An'  now  Charming  Charlie's  got  the  bulge  on 
Ranee  Noney,  'cause  he  was  scar'd  off  by  a  little  gal. 
But,  then,  the  little  gal  was  a  juke's  daughter,  you 
see — the  Juke  of  Chillingford's  daughter,  an'  she  a 
countess — a  real  countess,  all  blazin'  with  di'mons, 
so  'taint  no  wonder  she  put  to  flight  three  men  an' 


38  BRINKA  • 

a  boy.     Look-a-here,"  concluded  Zebra,  changing 
the  subject,  "  did  you  know  Red  Top's  got  home  ?" 

"An*  'twa'n't  her  cousin  she  come  back  with, 
nuther,"  added  Zebra,  mysteriously,  as  I  replied  in 
the  affirmative. 

"  Who  was  it  with  ?"  I  asked. 

Instead  of  telling  me,  Zebra  went  through  with 
another  extraordinary  series  of  handsprings. 

"  Red  Top  Redwood,  of  the  Red  House !  Aint 
that  sanguinary  enough  for  Colonel  Blood  ?"  he  ex- 
claimed, coming  right  side  up.  "  Well,  it  was  the 
dashin'est  kind  of  a  turn-out,  drawn  by  two  bang-up 
hosses,  that  she  come  home  in.  An'  such  a 
howlin'  swell  set  beside  her,  with  a  stove-pipe  set 
rakish  a  top  of  his  curls,  so  shiny  you  could  see 
your  face  in  it.  But  didn't  he  mizzle  as  soon  as  he 
clapped  his  eyes  on  Cap'n  Corrie — stove-pipe,  mus- 
tache, fast  hosses,  an'  all !  An'  Red  Top  looked 
redder,  spit-fireier,  an'  handsomer  than  ever,  all  in  a 
blaze,  like  the  Fourth  of  July,  of  ribbons,  jewelry, 
streamers,  an'  feathers.  An'  Cap'n  Corrie  a-lookin' 
on,  his  ogles  green  as  grass,  an'  his  face  nutty 
yeller,  with  Red  Top  a  raisin'  high  jinks  a-givin' 
every  one  tiddereei.  Heel  up  an'  toe  down,  ef 
that—" 

The  door  was  hastily  unlocked,  and  Captain 
Corrie  entered,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his 
forehead. 

"  Is  the  boy  ready  ?" 

"You  bet!"  cried  Zebra. 

Catching  me  in  his  arms,  Captain  Corrie  made 


AX  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  39 

rapid  strides  through  the  corridors,  Zebra  tumbling 
down  the  stairways  before  him  six  or  eight  steps  at 
a  time. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  stood  Charming  Charlie 
playing  on  his  flute. 

"  The  coatht  ith  clear,  Captain  Corrie,"  lisped  he, 
adding,  "  Good-bye,  Mith  Maudie.  You're  in  luck 
to  get  off  tho."  Then  he  went  on  with  his  flute- 
playing,  and  Captain  Corrie  stole  out  of  the  back 
door  and  around  into  the  back  road  in  the  shade  of 
the  barn  and  stables.  And  that  was  the  last  I  saw 
of  the  Red  House. 


BKIA'A'A  : 


VI. 

"WE'RE  SURE  TO  CATCH  HIM." 

HELLO,  Landlord!"  exclaimed  the  butcher 
who  served  the  Red  House  with  pork  and 
beef;  "you've  sliced  a  good  half  hour  off  of  the 
app'inted  time,  ur  I'll  eat  kittens." 

He  was  seated  in  a  covered  wagon  that  stood  in 
the  shade  of  some  broad  oaks,  and  was  restraining 
the  impatience  of  the  two  stout  horses  attached 
to  it. 

"You  sha'n't  be  the  loser,  Sowerson,"  replied 
Captain  Corrie,  leaping  into  the  wagon  with  me  in 
his  arms.  And  the  horses  started  off,  waking  up 
the  young  pigs  in  the  after-part  of  the  wagon,  who 
shrilly  disputed  the  right  of  conversation. 

All  I  saw  was  a  wonder  and  delight  to  me — the 
snatches  of  wooded  and  brooked  ravines,  the  pretty 
villages  we  passed  through,  the  grim  old  granite 
hills,  the  occasional  glimpses  of  blue  mountains  in 
the  distance.  I  devoured  all  with  a  boy's  unfledged 
love  of  the  beautiful. 

I  had  often  heard  of  Boston,  and  speculating  on 
the  marvels  told  about  it  among  Red  House  fre- 
quenters, I  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was 
the  final  limit  to  the  world,  where  one  could  look- 
off  and  .cee  what  was  down  below.  But  that  it  \vas 


AN  AMERICAN  COUXTESS.  4I 

the  pivot  around  which  the  whole  universe  revolved 
(as  I  have  since  ascertained)  did  not  then  enter  into 
my  wildest  conjecture. 

I  was  bewildered  by  the  confusion  of  the  many 
vehicles  and  the  many  people  and  the  many  houses, 
and  when  our  wagon  stopped  Captain  Corrie,  as  he 
alighted,  handed  the  butcher  a  bank-note  from  his 
wallet,  saying : 

"  Never  mind  the  change,  Sowerson.  Keep  it  all 
for  the  delay  I  caused  you." 

"  Swaller  me  deown  hull  the  fust  annerkonder 
that  comes  along  ef  you're*not  a  up  an'  deown  liberal 
one,  Landlord.  An'  the  best  wish  I  can  make  is  that 
Mis'  Redwood,  your  harndsome  wife,  '11  live  a  thou- 
sand year  an'  never  grow  any  older,  as  they  say  in 
Spain.  She's  a  hull  team,  she  is — full  er  spunk,  spry 
as  a  cricket,  pooty  as  a  picter,  an'  with  gumption 
enough  fur  a  parson.  Jerusalem  crickets !  What 
more'n  that  kin  a  man's  is  a  man  an'  not  a  dumb 
driven  critter  a-snortin'  away  his  life  on  all  fours, 
like  Nebberchodnezzer,  ask  fur  ?" 

With  that  the  butcher  shouted  "  Git  ep !"  aae? 
drove  on.  Captain  Corrie  bore  me  in  his  arms  into 
a  shoe  shop,  where,  hanging  up  overhead  and 
protruding  from  shelves,  were  boots  and  shoes 
enough,  as  I  thought,  to  have  shod  the  whole 
world. 

A  pair  of  fancy  half-boots  were  selected  for  me, 
which  I  greatly  admired,  and  the  dealer,  a  slender, 
pale  man,  inclining  his  head  to  one  side,  asked  so 
many  questions  about  me  that  I  wondered  how  he 


42  BRJNKA : 

could  think  of  them  all.  And  when  we  left,  he  stood 
looking  after  us  in  the  attitude  of  a  stray  interroga- 
tion point. 

We  next  went  into  a  store  where  a  whole  row  of 
elegantly  dressed  little  boys  were  standing.  And 
whilst  wondering  what  kept  them  so  still,  I  learned 
a  lesson  on  the  falsity  of  appearances.  A  number  of 
them  being  robbed  of  their  gay  attire  to  fit  me  out, 
I  saw,  to  my  dismay,  their  wire-work  substitution 
for  bone  and  muscle,  their  lack  of  feet,  and  their 
wooden  heads. 

Captain  Corrie  was  ar&nging^n  a  substantial  new 
valise,  the  various  suits  he  had  purchased  for  me ; 
and  I,  clad  in  a  marvelous  blue  jacket  and  trousers, 
ornamented  with  a  double  row  of  gilt  buttons  and 
edged  with  white  linen  frills,  was  watching  in  the 
doorway  the  stream  of  passers-by,  when  suddenly  I 
recognized  Ranee  Noney  seated  in  a  light  open 
wagon  driving  a  span  of  horses.  Beside  him  was 
the  woman  Nancy,  and  in  the  seat  back  of  them  was 
a  man  in  officers  uniform. 

That  the  quick  eyes  of  Nancy  Redwood — who 
was  peering  up  and  down  the  street — had  detected 
me,  and  that  she  was  pointing  me  out  to  the  officer 
I  also  saw.  And  to  run  to  Captain  Corrie,  who  was 
buckling  the  last  strap  of  Jthe  stout  valise,  took  but 
an  instant. 

And  the  perfectly  cool  way  he  comprehended  the 
situation,  lifting  me  in  his  arms  and  grasping  the 
valise  in  his  disengaged  hand  as  easily  as  though  lie 
could  have  taken  two  or  three  more  boys  and  valises, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  43 

and  the  perfectly  cool  way  he  bade  good-morning  to 
the  salesman,  making  huge  strides,  though  in  no  ap- 
parent hurry,  through  the  door  opening  on  the  cross 
street  (it  being  a  corner  store),  was  astonishing  to 
me,  who  scarcely  breathed  in  my  agony  of  terror. 

He  turned  corner  after  corner  of  the  crooked, 
narrow  streets  until  we  came  to  a  yellow  stage  full 
of  people,  and  apparently  ready  to  start. 

"  Just  in  time.  Only  one  seat  left,"  called  out  a 
voice  that  I  thought  was  the  driver's  until  I  saw  he 
was  engaged  in  swearing  at  his  horses  to  make  them 
stand  still. 

"  Just  in  time !  Just  in  time !"  screamed  the  voice 
again.  And  then,  as  we  mounted  into  the  stage,  I 
beheld,  hanging  in  a  cage  from  a  post  close  beside 
me,  a  green  parrot  that  seemed  to  be  especially  ad- 
dressing me,  for  as  soon  as  I  caught  its  sharp, 
twinkling  eyes,  it  burst  out  into  a  peal  of  laughter 
that  was  lost  in  the  rumble  of  our  wheels. 

We  had  arrived  just  beyond  the  precincts  of  the 
city  and  were  ascending  a  long  hill,  and  I  was 
thinking  we  had  fairly  escaped  our  pursuers,  when, 
Captain  Corrie  giving  a  great  start,  I  beheld  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill  the  light  two-horse  wagon  whirl- 
ing around  into  the  road  from  a  cross-road,  the 
fierce  red  whiskers  of  Ranee  Noney  blazing  in  the 
noon-day  sun,  and  the  still  redder  locks  of  Nancy 
Redwood  frizzed  in  showy  bang  above  her  bold, 
handsome  face. 

I  gave  up  all  as  lost,  and  wondered  what  Captain 
Corrie  would  do  now. 


44  BRINKA  f 

He  leaned  forward  to  the  front  seat,  handing  the 
driver  some  money. 

"  I  get  out  here,"  said  he,  in  the  most  careless 
way.  "  Which  one  of  those  houses  is  Deacon 
Warren's  ?" 

"  The  first  one,  with  the  lilacs  in  the  front  yard," 
replied  the  driver,  stopping  his  horses  ;  "  and  here's 
your  ninepence  change." 

Captain  Corrie,  taking  advantage  of  a  clump  of 
maples  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  that  for  the  moment 
concealed  us  from  view  of  the  wagon  down  below 
us,  took  no  time  to  lift  me  and  the  valise  from  the 
stage,  and  to  pass  through  the  front  yard,  further 
screened  by  the  lilacs,  and  to  knock  at  the  door. 

"  Is  Deacon  Warren  at  home  ?"  asked  he,  enter- 
ing the  room  into  which  the  door  opened,  and  clos- 
ing it  upon  us  so  suddenly  that  the  old  lady,  who 
was  placidly  knitting  in  a  great  rocking-chair,  gave 
a  scream  and  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  He's  eaut  in  the  barn,"  she  said,  inspecting  us 
over  her  glasses. 

I  saw  through  the  open  window  a  gleam  of  red 
whiskers  and  a  flutter  of  streaming  ribbons  as  the 
light  wagon  drove  furiously  past  to  overtake  the 
stage,  and  Captain  Corrie,  saying  to  the  old  lady, 
"  Don't  trouble  yourself,  madam,  I  will  go  out  to 
the  barn  and  see  the  Deacon  there,"  took  great 
strides  through  the  house  and  out  at  the  back  door, 
the  old  lady  trotting  after  him  and  exclaiming : 

"  My  souls !" 

But  instead  of  seeking  the  barn  and  Deacon  War- 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


45 


ren,  Captain  Corrie  made  his  way  through  the  long 
garden  and  over  a  picket  fence  into  a  green  lane,  at  one 
end  of  which  stood  a  tumble-down  house  with  broken 
window-lights  and  doors  hanging  off  their  hinges, 
in  forlorn  and  patient  waiting  for  its  next  occupant. 

Captain  Corrie  occupied  it  only  long  enough  to 
hurry  through  its  deserted  rooms  out  into  the  weed- 
tangled  garden. 

"We'll  have  to  try  it!"  he  exclaimed,  breathing 
hard. 

Parting  the  matted  weeds  and  bushes  where  a 
long,  old-fashioned  well-sweep  idly  swung,  that  had 
once  been  used  to  let  down  and  draw  up  the  old 
oaken  bucket,  he  crept  down  into  the  old  well,  and 
finding  a  foothold  on  its  projecting  stones,  holding 
me  with  his  left  arm,  he  straightened  with  his  right 
the  shrubbery  around  its  mouth  that  he  had  trodden 
down,  almost  shutting  out  the  daylight. 

"  Gran'mammy  Warren  said  she  saw  the  man 
that  scar't  her  so  a-climin'  over  the  picket  fence 
into  the  lane ;  and  he'd  a  little  boy  in  his  arms," 
shrilly  screamed  a  piping  voice  over  our  heads. 

"  He  must  have  gone  up  with  the  little  boy  in  his 
arms,"  growled  a  hoarse  voice  in  reply.  "  There's 
no  one  can  beat  me  on  a  search  in  the  whole  of  the 
United  States,  and  if  he's  anywheres  about  here 
anybody  can  have  my  head  for  a  football." 

"  Oh  !  come  now,  officer,  we're  sure  to  catch  him  ; 
let's  get  back  into  the  wagon  and  go  around  into 
the  road  there.  We'll  overtake  him,  never  fear. 
We're  sure  to  catch  him." 


46  BRINK  A  : 

It  was  Nancy  Redwood  who  said  this  in  her 
sweetest  tones,  and  I  was  in  deadly  fear  lest  her 
quick  eyes  should  detect  the  old  well.  But  they  all 
went  off,  and  among  their  receding  voices  I  could 
distinguish  Ranee  Noney's  metallic  barytone  with 
its  sharp  hiss  of  the  letter  S. 

"  I  should  have  thought  of  this  well  the  first 
thing ;  but  the  hard  pressed  are  always  more  ready 
with  their  wits  than  the  pursuers,"  mumbled  Cap- 
tain Corrie.  "  Ranee  Noney  thinks  too  much  of 
himself  to  make  even  a  fifth-rate  detective,  and 
Nance  is  too  eager,  and  the  policeman  too  stupid ; 
so  perhaps  we'll  outwit  them  all,  my  boy." 

"  Are  we  going  to  stay  down  here  ?"  I  asked. 

"  They'll  take  the  road  going  west  at  this  end  of 
the  lane  awhile,  and  then  they'll  come  back  here  for 
another  look.  They've  had  time  to  reach  Deacon 
Warren's  and  their  wagon  ;  so  we'll  skirt  along  be- 
hind the  alders  to  the  other  end  of  the  lane  and  take 
to  the  pike  that  goes  south  down  to  Providence,  and 
we  may  chance  on  a  stage  or  covered  wagon." 

Even  while  speaking  Captain  Corrie  had  scrambled 
out  of  the  well  with  me  and  the  valise,  and  no  one 
for  wager  or  for  life  ever  walked  faster  than  he. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


VII. 

THE    DUKE'S    FORCED    INVITATION. 

THE  first  object  we  saw  on  the  turnpike  was  an 
elegant  carriage,  that  I  recognized  at  once  as 
the  gay  equipage,  with  its  liveried  outriders,  that 
watered  its  four  sleek,  high-stepping  horses  at  the 
Red  House  on  my  memorable  birthday.  Instead 
of  passing  us  by  on  the  dusty  road,  it  suddenly 
stopped  in  front  of  us,  and  the  little  girl  within  (I 
recognized  her  also  on  the  moment,  although  her 
pretty  white  furs  were  changed  for  fleecy  white  mus- 
lin) was  urging  a  point  in  a  rush  of  remonstrance 
with  the  pale,  high-featured  gentleman  beside  her, 
and  was  looking  up  to  him  appealingly  through  a 
most  wonderful  pair  of  eyes,  large,  dark,  and  lus- 
trous. 

"  Papa,  papa,  you  must.  Just  look  !  the  boy  is 
sucJi  a  pretty  boy  —  the  very  prettiest  boy  I  ever 
saw  ;  and  he  is  so  white,  so  very  white.  Papa,  papa, 
you  must.  The  man  looks  so  tired,  and  he's  sncJi  a 
nice  man,  with  such  a.  good  face  —  every  bit  as  hand- 
some as  you  are,  papa.  And  just  think  !  carrying 
the  little  boy  all  the  way  !  It  might  be  you  and 
me,  papa,  there  in  the  dusty  road." 

The  gentleman  looked  down  into  her  upturned 
eyes  and  laid  a  white  hand  caressingly  on  her  pretty 
hair. 


48  BR1NKA : 

11  It  shall  be  as  you  say,  little  tyrant,"  said  he, 
pushing  open  the  carriage  door.  "  My  good  man," 
and  calling  to  Captain  Corrie  his  voice  changed  from 
its  caressing  tone  to  one  remarkable  for  a  certain 
frigid  urbanity,  "  it  is  my  daughter's  wish  that  you 
enter  the  carriage  with  your  son  and  give  yourself  a 
little  rest." 

"  A  good,  long  rest,  you  mean,  papa,"  persisted 
the  child.  "  And  please  tell  the  man  he  and  his 
little  boy  can  have  the  front  seat;  see,  they  are 
waiting  outside.  Be  polite,  papa." 

Thus  adjured,  the  gentleman  signified  by  a  wave 
of  his  hand — his  motions  as  well  as  his  words  evinc- 
ing the  highest  breeding — that  we  must  enter  the 
carriage.  I  was  afraid  Captain  Corrie  would  decline, 
after  all,  the  gentleman's  manner  was  so  very  lofty ; 
but  he  precipitately  took  possession  of  the  luxurious 
seat  assigned  us  and  sat  me  down  beside  him,  ex- 
pressing his  thanks  with  a  respectful  dignity  I 
thought  was  very  nice.  I  noticed,  too,  that  as  he 
wiped  from  his  face  the  perspiration  the  hot  June  sun 
had  caused,  it  was  with  a  spotless  handkerchief  fresh 
from  its  folds.  It  was  my  first  sensation  of  ruffled 
pride ;  and  though  I  did  not  know  what  name  to 
give  it,  it  tugged  away  in  my  breast  and  choked  in 
my  throat ;  and  I  wondered  at  the  vast  composure 
of  Captain  Corrie  under  the  chillingly  patronizing 
bearing  of  the  little  girl's  father. 

The  child  called  to  the  liveried  footman  who  stood 
ready  to  shut  the  carriage  door,  addressing  him  as 
"  Roberts." 


AX  AMERICAN  COUXTESS.  49 

"  Yes,  my  Lady,"  returned  Roberts,  opening  the 
carriage  door  again. 

"  Please  fix  the  blinds  of  the  window  by  the  little 
boy.  See,  the  sun  shines  straight  in  his  face.  And 
then  tell  Perkins  to  drive  on." 

All  the  little  girl  said  was  spoken  in  that  exqui- 
sitely modulated  voice  that  comes  with  the  culture 
of  centuries.  It  was  so  new  to  me  and  was  so  lovely, 
and  she  was  so  lovely,  with  her  animated  face  framed 
in  the  shining  lustre  of  her  bright  hair  and  lighted 
by  the  generous  warmth  of  her  dark  eyes,  that  I 
was  charmed  and  could  not  keep  my  eyes  off  from 
her. 

"  Hanything  more,  my  Lady  ?"  asked  Roberts, 
after  he  had  closed  the  blinds. 

"  One  very  important  thing,  Roberts,"  said  the 
gentleman,  in  his  cold,  even  voice;  "  please  recollect 
to  address  my  daughter  as  Miss  Brinka,  and  not 
'  my  Lady.'  " 

"  Yes,  my  Lord,"  assented  Roberts. 

"  And  endeavor  to  forget  the  habit  of  years  passed 
by,  as  I  so  often  have  told  you.  In  this,  the  country 
of  my  adoption,  recollect  I  am  plain  Mr.  Vaughan, 
an  untitled  American  citizen." 

"  Yes,  my  Lord.     Certainly,  my  Lord." 

"  There,  Roberts,  you  are  incorrigible  !"  and  plain 
Mr.  Vaughan's  clean-cut  mouth  relaxed  into  a  smile 
so  frigid  one  would  not  have  been  surprised  to  see  it 
become  petrified  on  his  pale,  aristocratic  face.  But 
the  smile  vanished  and  he  added :  "  There !  shut 
the  door  and  tell  Jenkins  to  proceed." 


jo  BRIXKA ; 

"Yes,  my  Lor — Mr.  Vaughan,  hi  should  say; 
hexcuse  me,  Mr.  Vaughan,"  and  Roberts  closed  the 
door,  mounted  the  box,  and  the  carriage  rolled  on. 

"  Papa,"  said  Brinka,  "  ask  the  man  if  his  boy  ha ; 
been  ill.  I  think  he  must  have  been  ill,  he  is  so 
very  white  and  so  very  thin.  You  would  not  like 
to  see  me  so  white  and  thin,  would  you  ?  Do, 
papa,  ask  him." 

The  little  maiden  was  sitting  on  her  father's  knee, 
he  in  one  delicately  white  hand  holding  a  book  he 
was  reading,  and  with  the  other  caressing  the  loose 
curls  of  her  pretty  hair.  Lifting  his  eyes  from  his 
book  at  her  appeal,  he  fixed  them  with  cold,  un- 
sympathizing  inspection  first  on  me  and  then  on 
Captain  Corrie,  who  stood  the  scrutiny  with  pon- 
derous composure,  a  slight  flush  that  mounted  to 
his  forehead  alone  showing  he  felt  any  uneasiness 
from  the  searching  look. 

"  You  hear  my  daughter's  request,"  said  Mr. 
Vaughan,  in  a  voice  of  impassive  command  ;  "  she 
is  much  interested  to  know  if  your  son  has  been 
ill." 

"  He  has  been  very  ill — so  ill  I  feared  he  would 
die,  sir ;  but,  all  the  same,  he  is  not  my  son.  He  is 
an  orphan,  and  comes  of  a  proud  stock,  as  proud  a 
stock  as  your  own,  sir — as  proud  as  the  proudest. 
I  am  nobody,  but  the  boy  is  all  I  have  averred." 
This  Captain  Corrie  vouchsafed  in  his  deepest  bass, 
as  though  wrung  from  him  against  his  own  volition 
by  Mr.  Vaughan 's  grand  manner. 

"  If  the  boy  is  what  you  declare,  why  are  you 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  r  j 

thus  in  the  public  road  on  foot,  with  him  in  your 
arms,  and  he  just  from  a  bed  of  sickness?"  demanded 
Mr.  Vaughan. 

"  Papa,  papa,  you  are  not  polite.  Perhaps  the 
man  is  poor  and  does  not  like  to  say,  you  know," 
cried  Brinka,  pulling  her  father's  face  down  to  hers 
with  a  pretty  action  and  kissing  him. 

"  You  ask  me  why  at  this  part  of  our  journey  I 
am  traveling  thus  on  foot  with  him,  sir ;  it  is  be- 
cause— it  would  take  too  long  to  tell  it  all,  sir.  Re- 
verses came,  reverses  came  to  his  family — reverses 
come  even  to  kings,"  said  Captain  Corrie,  steadily, 
his  eyes  wandering  from  the  father  to  the  little  girl, 
who  with  her  kiss  had  released  her  father's  head 
from  the  clasp  of  her  dainty  hands,  and  was  look- 
ing up  into  his  face  with  large,  admonishing  eyes, 
making  such  a  charming  picture  that  it  was  no 
wonder  Mr.  Vaughan  saw  little  else  save  her. 
"And,"  continued  Captain  Corrie,  with  a  pathos  of 
tone  that  carried  irresistible  conviction  with  it,  his 
look  returning  to  Mr.  Vaughan,  "  I  am  the  only 
friend  the  little  boy  has  left." 

Mr.  Vaughan,  having  given  a  studiedly  polite 
attention  to  Captain  Corrie's  words,  with  critical  in- 
quiry, and  the  pretty  Brinka  with  tender  sympathy, 
looked  at  me  again,  and  I  felt  quite  abashed.  Mr. 
Vaughan  then  turned  to  his  book  as  though  to  re- 
sume his  reading,  but,  instead,  he  once  more  fixed 
his  eyes  on  me,  shivering  me  with  his  scrutiny. 

"  Who  and  what  is  the  boy  ?"  demanded  he. 

"  He  is  descended  in  direct  line,  sir,  from  an  an- 


5  2  BKINKA  : 

cient  stock,"  replied  Captain  Corrie,  solemnly,  "  dat- 
ing back  to  the  Norman  Conquest.  His  great- 
grandfather, a  younger  son,  with  a  younger  son's 
portion,  and  of  an  adventurous  spirit,  came  to  this 
country  and  settled  here,  marrying  an  American 
beauty  and  heiress.  His  grandfather,  General  Rich- 
mond Forsythe,  being  an  only  son,  inherited  a  large 
property,  and  had  but  one  child  also — this  boy's 
mother,  Miss  Agnes  Forsythe,  who  was  likewise  a 
beauty  and  an  heiress.  She  also  married,  and  then 
came  the  reverses." 

"  Who  was  it  Miss  Agnes  Forsythe  married,  and 
how  was  it  reverses  came?"  demanded  Mr.  Vaughan, 
and  I  wondered  the  words  did  not  turn  to  ice  on 
his  lips. 

Brinka  listened  intently,  her  pretty  face  varying 
in  expression  with  each  word,  and  at  her  father's 
blunt  question  she  looked  quite  distressed. 

"She  married  a  Mr.  Eugene  Leighton,  sir,  who 
wormed  himself  into  her  father's  confidence,  got 
control  of  his  property,  gambled  it  all  away  in 
stocks  and  horse-races,  and  then  deserted  his  young 
wife." 

This  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  heard  the  name 
Leighton — the  first  time  I  had  ever  heard  anything 
connected  with  my  own  history. 

"  Where  is  he  ?"  asked  Mr.  Vaughan. 

"  Gone  to  parts  unknown." 

"  Where  is  the  boy's  mother  ?" 

"  Dead.     Died  of  a  broken  heart." 
.  "  Is  his  grandfather  living  ?" 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


53 


"  Dead,  sir ;  all  dead." 

"  The  boy's  name,  then,  is  Leighton  ?" 

"  Leighton,  sir." 

Mr.  Vaughan  looked  at  me  much  as  a  highly  cul- 
tured iceberg,  with  a  pair  of  steely,  blue-gray  eyes, 
might  look  down  on  a  stray  dolphin,  and,  having 
frozen  the  name  Leighton  in  on  my  memory,  he  re- 
sumed his  book  with  a  cold  dismissal  of  both  Cap- 
tain Corrie  and  me."  Brinka  glanced  up  into  her 
father's  unsympathetic  eyes,  and,  springing  down 
lightly  from  his  knee,  she  shyly  offered  me  a  bunch 
of  pink  buds  and  blossoms  she  had  been  holding  in 
her  hand. 

"  They  are  rhododendrons,"  she  said,  "  the  first 
of  the  season.  Roberts  bought  them  for  me  in 
Boston  this  morning.  They  grow  in  the  mountains. 
People  who  don't  know  any  better  call  them  laurel. 
But  my  governess  says  real  laurel  doesn't  grow  wild 
in  America.  She  says  the  right  name  is  rhododen- 
dron, and  that  it  is  a  species  of  kalmia.  I  love  them 
dearly,  and  I  want  you  to  have  them." 

And  with  this  bit  of  botanical  lore  she  left  the 
flowers  in  my  hand  and  returned  to  her  position  on 
her  father's  lap. 

The  carriage  rolled  smoothly  on,  and  the  little 
Brinka  fell  asleep  in  her  father's  arms.  A  small 
Skye-terrier,  that  had  manifested  the  liveliest  interest 
in  all  that  occurred,  lay  coiled  up  in  a  flossy  blue 
and  silver-gray  knot  on  Brinka's  vacant  seat  with 
its  keen  bright  eyes  now  peering  at  me  from  under 
its  shaggy  brows,  and  now  closed  in  sleep. 


54  BRINK  A  .' 

I  was  ravenously  hungry,  with  a  convalescent's 
craving,  but  before  I  knew  it  I  also  dropped  asleep, 
disproving  the  Spanish,  "  He  who  sleeps  dines," 
for  when  I  awoke  I  was  hungrier  than  ever.  The 
carriage  had  stopped  at  a  public  house  with  a  wide 
lawn  in  front,  and  Roberts  was  holding  open  the 
carriage  door. 

"  Is  it  here  our  luncheon  is  prepared,  Roberts  ?" 
Mr.  Vaughan  was  asking. 

"  Yes,  my  Lord — Mr.  Vaughan,  I  mean.  I  sent 
the  horders  to  this  'otel  yesterday,  but  if  you  will  be 
so  good  as  to  listen — hi  'ave  something  to  com- 
muni — " 

"  O  papa !  the  little  boy  must  have  luncheon, 
too,"  interrupted  Brinka,  vehemently,  as  Captain 
Corrie  made  a  movement  to  go,  but  was  prevented 
by  Roberts,  who  stood  with  the  carriage  door  in 
his  hand,  blocking  the  egress. 

"  Say  on,  Roberts,  but  be  brief,"  acquiesced  Mr. 
Vaughan,  taking  no  further  notice  of  Brinka's  im- 
perative suggestion  than  to  put  forth  his  hand  and 
draw  her  toward  him. 

"  When  we  stopped  to  water  the  'orses,  my  Lord 
— Mr.  Vaughan,  I  mean,"  pursued  Roberts,  "  hafter 
this  gentleman  hand  'is  son  got  in,  a  countryman 
who  was  driving  away  from  the  trough  hinformed 
Jenkins  hand  me  that  the  detective  police  were  out 
in  all  directions  in  search  hof  a  hescaped  burglar 
and  'orse-thief — a  regular  prison-bird — who  'ad  a  boy 
with  'im,  hand  that  a  reward  of  a  thousand  dollars 
'ad  been  hoffered  for  the  happrehension  of  the  same. 


AN  A  MEXICAN  COUNTESS. 


55 


Similarly,  on  the  top  of  an  'igh  'ill  a  hofficer  on 
'orseback  haccosted  us  with  the  same  hinformation. 
But  Jenkins  and  me  'adn't  seen  no  one  of  that 
disreputable  cast  so  we  couldn't  give  him  any  satis- 
faction. But — "  here  Roberts  stopped. 

"  Proceed,  Roberts,"  said  Mr.  Vaughan. 

"  But  hany  man  might  get  harrested  on  suspicion, 
my  Lord — Mr.  Vaughan,  I  mean — and  hi  put  it  to 
you,  my  Lord — Mr.  Vaughan,  I  mean — if  you  think 
it  safe,  with  the  police  hout  like  sleuth  'ounds,  for 
honest  men  to  be  traveling  on  foot  with  boys  ?" 

"Anything  more,  Roberts  ?"  demanded  Mr. 
Vaughan,  with  an  air  that  marked  him  so  much 
above  police  officers  and  prison-birds  and  men 
traveling  on  foot  with  boys,  that  I  wondered  Rob- 
erts did  not  abandon  the  subject  and  withdraw  in 
confusion. 

"  Hexcuse  me,  my  Lord — Mr.  Vaughan,  I  mean — 
but  it  would  be  such  a  pity — such  a  pretty  boy,  you 
see — such  a  huncommonly  pretty  boy,"  returned 
Roberts,  with  so  intent  a  look  at  Mr.  Vaughan  as 
rendered  it  doubtful  if  he  were  not  the  pretty  boy 
in  question. 

"Anything  more,  Roberts  ?"  again  urged  Mr. 
Vaughan,  with  condescending  patience,  meantime 
inspecting  me  critically  as  I  sat  observant  in  my 
fine  linen  frills  and  gorgeous  new  suit. 

"  Nothink,  my  Lord — Mr.  Vaughan,  I  mean — ex- 
cept that  if  the  wrong  man  should  'appen  to  get 
harrested  hon  suspicion " — Roberts  paused  once 
more,  and  Mr.  Vaughan  transferred  his  steely  blue 


56  BRINKA  : 

eyes  from  me  to  Captain  Corrie's  calm,  honest  face 
(he  had  an  honest  face),  and  then,  for  the  third 
time,  repeated  his  question  to  Roberts  with  a  pa- 
tience so  serenely  unruffled  in  its  condescension 
that  one  must  admire  the  perfection  of  good  breed- 
ing that  prompted  it. 

"  Honly,  my  Lord — Mr.  Vaughan,  I  mean — that 
hif  the  wrong  man  should  'appen  to  get  harrested 
hon  suspicion  it  might  go  'ard  with  the  boy,  hand 
'e  just  from  a  bed  of  sickness." 

Mr.  Vaughan  glanced  again  at  Captain  Corrie, 
who,  pale,  but  quite  composed,  met  his  cold,  search- 
ing look  with  clear,  open  eyes — eyes,  I  felt,  as  I 
looked  up  into  his  handsome  and  very  grave  coun- 
tenance, that  spoke  him  good  and  true  at  heart,  and 
I  crept  up  close  to  him,  he  quietly  putting  out  his 
arm  and  drawing  me  still  closer. 

"  Oh,  papa !"  exclaimed  Brinka,  eagerly,  her  dark- 
eyes  gazing  up  into  her  father's  face,  "  ask  the  little 
boy's  only  friend — he  told  you  he  was  the  little 
boy's  only  friend,  you  know — ask  him  where  he  is 
going,  papa,  and  then  we  can  take  him  there,  you 
know.  Roberts  says  the  policemen  will  do  some- 
thing to  him,  and  then  the  little  boy  won't  have  any 
friend,  papa,  and  he  is  such  a  nice  boy." 

"  You  hear  my  daughter's  request,  sir.  Where  is  it 
you  are  taking  the  boy  ?"  asked  Mr.  Vaughan,  with 
frigid  condescension. 

"  First  to  Providence,  sir,  and  from  there  to — " 

"  Papa,  papa,  you  hear.  He  says  he  is  going  to 
Providence,"  broke  in  little  Brinka,  with  her  pretty 


A<V  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  57 

child's  treble,  as,  still  sitting  upon  her  father's 
knee,  she  drew  his  face  close  to  hers  with  both  her 
small  hands.  "  Now,  you  will  take  him  to  Provi- 
dence, won't  you,  papa?  That  is  just  where  we  are 
going,  and  so  you  will  not  have  the  least  shadow  of 
an  excuse,  you  see." 

"  Quite  a  large  expression  for  a  little  girl,"  said 
Mr.  Vaughan,  smiling  down  fondly  into  his  daugh- 
ter's upturned  face.  He  then  turned  to  Captain 
Corrie. 

"And  from  Providence  to  where,  sir — if  you  have 
no  objection  to  giving  young  Leighton's  final  desti- 
nation ?" 

One  would  have  supposed  that  some  of  the 
warmth  just  bestowed  upon  his  little  daughter, 
would  at  least  have  cast  reflected  rays,  softening  his 
manner  toward  others.  But  no ;  he  was  as  cold 
again  as  though  a  chill  northwester  had  suddenly 
swept  through  him. 

"  No  objections,  sir,"  answered  Captain  Corrie, 
looking  steadfastly  into  his  inquiring  eyes ;  "  I  am 
taking  him  to  one  of  the  best  schools  going,  sir — 
Professor  Norman  Wye's,  near  New  London." 

Mr.  Vaughan's  manner  underwent  a  marked 
change,  and  expressed  much  interest  and  more  sur- 
prise; his  sudden  glance  being  met  by  the  other 
with  a  gravity  of  mien  so  imperturbable  as  to  defy 
doubt  or  speculation. 

"  You  have  chosen  well,"  returned  he,  at  last, 
with  an  accession  of  stateliness  suggestive  of  a  tak- 
ing himself  to  account  for  having  been  betrayed  into 


a  show  of  unwonted  concern.  "  I  am  acquainted 
with  Professor  Wye ;  he  is  one  among  the  many. 
I  will  not  again  inquire  into  the  motive  which  leads 
you  to  travel  thus  on  foot  to  so  expensive  a  school ; 
but,  as  my  little  daughter  has  taken  a  fancy  to  have 
young  Leighton  go  with  us,  you  are  welcome,  in 
her  name,  to  seats  in  my  carriage  as  far  as  Provi- 
dence. We  will  go  in  to  luncheon  now,  Roberts  ; 
and  see  also  that  this — gentleman  and  young  Leigh- 
ton  are  provided  with  luncheon  as  well." 

Brinka,  who  had  thrown  her  arms  around  her 
father's  neck  and  was  kissing  him,  sprang  lightly 
from  the  carriage.  And  to  say  her  feet  touched  the 
ground  in  her  airy  flight  to  the  porch  of  the  hotel 
is  more  than  could  positively  be  averred.  The  Skye- 
terrier,  apparently  trying  to  imitate  her,  made  gal- 
loping jumps  close  after  her,  whilst  Mr.  Vaughan 
followed  with  a  stately  tread.  Roberts  carried  me 
in  his  arms,  saying  I  looked  too  delicate  yet  for 
much  exertion.  He  put  me  down  in  a  great  stuffed 
arm-chair  in  a  beautiful  room,  and,  taking  a  towel 
from  a  rack,  spread  it  before  me  and  gave  me  an 
orange,  telling  me  I  should  soon  have  my 

o     "  o  J 

luncheon. 

When  we  were  alone,  Captain  Corrie,  closing  the 
door  and  turning  the  key,  poured  from  the  ewer 
into  a  capacious  basin,  a  flood  of  water,  and  plunged 
his  head  into  it  until  it  was  lost  from  sight.  Emerg- 
ing from  the  basin,  he  came  across  the  room  to  me, 
toweling  furiously  at  his  dripping  face  and  hair. 

"  Hard  lines,  my  boy!   hard  lines,"  he  ejaculated, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


59 


leaning  down  toward  me  as  I  sat  eating  my  orange, 
his  voice  through  the  spluttering  water-drops  hav- 
ing a  solemn  plaint  in  it,  like  the  undersurge  of  the 
sea.  "  This  has  been  a  fiery  ordeal  for  us,  my  boy, 
and  we're  not  out  of  it  yet."  Here  a  drop  of  water 
fell  from  his  hair  on  my  hand,  and,  seeing  it,  he 
wiped  it  off  with  a  corner  of  the  towel  on  my  lap. 
"  This  accepting  favors  under  false  pretenses  makes 
one  feel  cheap  enough.  But  what  is  a  fellow  to  do 
against  such  odds  ?  If  I  should  make  a  clean  breast 
of  it,  as  I  was  tempted  to  do  there  in  the  carriage, 
and  throw  you  on  the  mercy  of  this  Mr.  Vaughan, 
what  would  be  the  consequence  ?  He  is  not  the 
man  to  look  at  it  as — as  another  might,  nobleman 
as  he  is  by  title.  But  he  would  feel  bound  to  hand 
me  over  to  the  legal  authorities,  and  then,  though 
he  might  be  willing  to  protect  you,  it  would  be  no 
go,  for  there  is  Nance  and  Ranee  Noney  and  the 
rest  all  ready  to  swear  that  you  are  Nance's  son, 
and  nothing  could  prevent  your  being  given  up  into 
her  hands,  and  you  know  what  that  means.  It 
means  that  you  would  be  brought  up  to  the  very 
worst — that  is,  provided  you  should  chance  to  live 
through  it.  Now,  if  1  can  keep  out  of  the  jug — 
out  of  prison — I  can  very  easily  find  those  who  can 
prove  that  you  are  not  Nance's  son  (Nance's  and 
my  little  boy  died  two  years  ago),  but  that  you  are 
the  son  of  Miss  Agnes  Forsythe — Mrs.  Leighton,  I 
mean,  wife  of  Mr.  Eugene  Leighton,  your  father. 
Do  you  understand  all  this,  my  boy  ?" 

I  did,  and  said  so,  though  what  a  nobleman  by 


60  BRIXA'A : 

title  meant  I  had  no  conception,  but  let  that  go. 
How  to  express  my  horror  of  being  forced  back 
into  Nancy  Redwood's  power  I  did  not  know 
either,  so  I  let  that  go  also,  and  contented  myself 
with  summing  it  all  up  by  prophesying  that  we 
would  come  out  of  it  all  right. 

"  I  hope  so,  my  man,  I  hope  so.  It  is  well  for 
you  that  you  are  a  pretty  boy  and  the  image  of 
your  sainted  mother.  If  you  had  been  ill-featured 
and  coarse  and  common,  this  exquisite  little  Coun- 
tess Brinka  would  not  have  plead  so  for  you.  But 
let  me  once  get  out  of  this,  and,  so  help  me — well, 
I'll  stay  out  of  it.  I  wasn't  meant  for  a  rogue. 
I'm  sick  as  death  of  it." 

Captain  Corrie  spoke  in  a  low,  rumbling  voice, 
not  to  be  overheard. 

"  Oh  !  I'm  sure  you'll  stay  out  of  it,"  I  said,  quite 
confidently. 

Captain  Corrie  smiled  grimly. 

"  And  to  think  of  the  luck  !"  continued  he.  "  It's 
like  heaping  coals  of  fire  on  my  head.  This  Mr. 
Vaughan  is  no  other  than  the  Duke  of  Chillingford 
(I  know  his  coat-of-arms),  whose  very  house  Ranee 
Noney  and  the  rest  broke  into  only  last  week, 
and  were  frightened  off,  empty  handed,  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  the  little  daughter — this 
very  same  little  Countess  Brinka — with  her  Skye- 
terrier.  If  the  Duke  only  knew  that  it  was  my  men 
that — " 

Leaving  his  sentence  unfinished,  Captain  Corrie 
started  abruptly  for  the  other  side  of  the  room,  to 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  6r 

return  instantly,  hand-glass  and  brush  in  hand, 
vigorously  brushing  his -curly  brown  hair. 

"  If  the  Duke  only  knew," — he  repeated,  and 
stopped  again. 

"  No  need  of  his  knowing,"  I  cried,  vehemently. 
"  I  don't  think  the  Duke's  very  nice.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  he'd  break  open  houses  himself,  if  he 
hadn't  any  money.  I  don't  like  him  one  bit — I — " 

"  Better  to  speak  well  of  the  bridge  that  carries 
you  safely  over,"  interrupted  Captain  Corrie,  with 
a  curious  smile.  "  He'd  never  do  that — not  he. 
He'd  starve  first,  he's  that  proud.  No  woman,  even, 
could  tempt  him,  he's  that  proud." 

"  His  little  girl  wouldn't,  anyway.  She's  good, 
and  she's  perfectly  beautiful.  As  beautiful  as — as 
the  lady  the  giant  ran  off  with  and  Jack  rescued ; 
and  if  any  giant  tried  to  run  off  with  her,  I'd  fight 
him  like  Jack,  and  I'd  rescue  her." 

"  That's  right,  my  man.  Always  stick  to  that," 
said  Captain  Corrie,  laughing. 

And  having  made  himself  neat  with  fresh  collar 
and  cuffs,  he  proceeded  to  wash  my  hands  and  face 
and  encase  me  in  a  new  suit  of  white  linen.  He  had 
just  closed  the  valise  with  a  snap  as  Roberts  knocked 
at  the  door  and  called  us  to  luncheon. 

During  the  rest  of  the  journey  we  passed  every 
variety  of  New  England  scenery,  from  open  fields, 
rich  in  ripening  grain  and  studded  with  dazzling 
white  farm-houses,  to  dense  forests  and  granite  hills, 
with  their  bare  ledges  looming  up  grim  and  bold 
from  out  the  tangled  growth  of  stinted  juniper, 


62  BR1NKA  : 

sumach,  green  brier,  blackberry,  and  barberry 
bushes. 

But  the  scenery  obtained  only  casual  glances  from 
me,  as  the  titled  and  exquisitely  pretty  Brinka,  hav- 
ing grown  quite  well  acquainted,  was  telling  me 
stories  and  giving  me  cakes  and  fruit. 

She  listened  with  a  rapt  face,  and  with  large, 
solemn  eyes,  as  I,  in  turn,  told  her  the  story  of 
Jack, the  Giant  Killer;  and  about  the  gulls  and  the 
great  sea-loons  out  on  the  reefs,  imitating  their 
weird,  uncanny  laughter.  But  I  took  good  care  not 
to  speak  of  Nancy  Redwood,  or  of  any  one  or  any- 
thing at  the  Red  House,  nor  to  say  I  had  seen  her 
before  on  that  afternoon  in  March  (my  birthday), 
when  she  had  stopped  at  the  Red  House  in  the 
carriage  with  her  father,  while  Zebra  and  Wiry 
Jack  watered  their  horses. 

Brinka  and  I  did  all  the  talking,  as  we  sat  down 
together  on  the  soft  rugs  carpeting  the  carriage 
floor,  her  father  scarcely  taking  his  eyes  from  his 
book,  apparently  well  contented  that  his  darling  was 
enjoying  herself. 

She  asked  me  my  name ;  and  wishing  to  pick  out 
the  prettiest  of  the  many  names  I  went  by  at  the 
Red  House,  I  came  near  saying  Miss  Maudie,  but, 
considering  a  moment,  I  pitched  upon  Caryl. 

She  pronounced  it  a  very  nice  name,  and  told  me 
she  was  a  countess  and  her  father  was  a  duke. 

"I  don't  know  what  a  duke  is,"  she  confessed. 
"  It's  like  a  colonel  or  a  doctor  or  a  policeman,  I  sup- 
pose. Roberts  and  Jenkins  think  it  is  something  great." 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  63 

I  looked  at  Mr.  Vaughan  as  he  sat  reading,  with 
such  a  distinguished,  high-bred  air,  like  nobody  I 
had  ever  before  seen,  and  thinking  of  Zebra's  asser- 
tion, I  said,  "  Perhaps  a  duke  is  like  the  President." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  returned  Brinka,  thoughtfully. 
"  Papa  won't  let  Roberts  and  Jenkins  call  him  my 
Lord  Duke.  They  came  from  England  with  us,  and 
they  want  papa  to  go  back  to  England  again  be- 
cause the  Queen  made  so  much  of  him  when  we 
were  there  on  a  visit  last  year.  But  I  know  lots  of 
ladies  in  New  York  a  great  deal  prettier  than  she 
is.  We  live  in  New  York,  and  our  house  is  e-nor- 
mous,  and  everything  in  it  is  perfectly  lovely. 
Roberts  and  Jenkins  say  it  is  too  new,  and  doesn't 
show  our  long  line  of  ancestry,  like  papa's  horrid 
old  castle  in  England.  They  don't  say  horrid  old 
castle ;  they  brag  of  its  antiquity,  and  I  horrify  them 
by  telling  them  that  all  our  long  line  of  ancestry  did 
was  to  leave  Chillingford — that's  the  castle — fusty 
and  musty  and  rusty  and  stuffy  and  dismal  as  a 
dungeon,  all  full  of  owls  and  bats,  the  deadliest 
place  you  ever  saw.  Papa  was  dreadfully  poor 
there  before  he  came  to  the  United  States.  He 
couldn't  keep  the  castle  up.  But  he  has  made  an 
awful  lot  of  money  since  he  came  here,  and  that  is 
why  he  likes  the  United  States.  So  he  lets  Roberts 
and  Jenkins  talk,  and  all  the  same  he  stays  on  and 
makes  piles  of  money.  Money  buys  pretty  things. 
I  like  plenty  of  money,  don't  you  ?" 

I  did  not  like  to  confess  that  I  never  had  owned 
a  cent  of  money  in  my  life,  so  I  compromised  by 


64  BRIKKA : 

declaring  that  when  I  got  to  be  a  man  I  was  going 
to  make  more  money  than  anybody  else  ever  had, 
and  that  I  would  give  it  all  to  her ;  at  which  she 
laughed  with  much  glee. 

"  We  had  our  house  broken  into  last  week,"  she 
said.  "It  was  just  before  we  went  to  Boston  this 
time,  and  I  ran  down-stairs  and  Puck  after  me " 
(here  the  Skye-terrier,  hearing  his  name,  jumped 
up,  wagging  his  tail,  and  looked  knowingly  at  his 
little  mistress),  "  and  Puck  barked  like  mad,  and 
we  frightened  the  thieves  off!  Get  down,  Puck ; 
behave  yourself."  (This  to  the  dog,  who  was  mani- 
festing delight  at  being  favorably  mentioned.)  "  Papa 
got  Puck's  name  out  of  Shakespeare.  Did  you  ever 
read  Shakespeare  ?" 

It  chanced  that  Shakespeare  was  much  quoted  at 
the  Red  House. 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  know  how  to  read  yet,"  I  confessed, 
"  but  I  know  all  about  Shakespeare.  He  said  that 
people  who  hadn't  music  in  their  souls  were  fit  for 
treason,  stratagems,  and  were  spoiled.  I  sha'n't  be 
spoiled,  for  I  love  music  dearly." 

"  So  do  I !"  exclaimed  Brinka,  rapturously. 

"  He  wrote  funny  things,  but  I  can't  remember 
them,  and  he  was  a  horse  thief  and  a  poacher,"  I 
confidently  added. 

The  little  Countess  looked  aghast. 

"  Gracious  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  never  heard  any- 
thing so  awful.  He  couldn't  have  been  that ;  he 
wrote  beautiful  plays.  Papa  took  me  to  see  the 
McrcJiant  of  Venice  last  winter  and  the  Merry  Wires 


A.V  AMERICAN  COUXTESS.  65 

of  Windsor,  where  a  silly  fellow  ran  all  over  the 
stage  crying  for  '  sweet  Anne  -Page'  arrd  making 
people  laugh.  But  you  should  have  seen  the  time 
there  was  after  the  thieves  ran  off  out  of  the  house. 
Papa  came  in  his  dressing-gown  ;  Miss  Fitch,  my 
governess,  flew  down-stairs  in  a  bright  red  wrapper 
(there  was  a  gas  jet  in  the  hall,  you  see,  that  is 
always  left  burning),  with  her  hair  all  loose  down 
her  back,  and  nearly  fainted.  And  presently  the 
cook  and  the  butler  and  Roberts  and  Jenkins  and 
the  rest  of  the  servants  appeared ;  they  thought  the 
house  was  on  fire.  And  I  couldn't  make  Puck 
stop  barking,  because  he  had  seen  the  thieves, 
and—" 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  said  I,  quickly,  "  I  heard  all  about 
it." 

"  Did  you  ?"  exclaimed  Brinka,  in  pretty  amaze- 
ment. "  Who  could  have  told  you  ?" 

"  Zebra  told  me  he  saw — he  saw  it  all,"  stam- 
mered I,  getting  deeper  and  deeper  into  a  disclosure 
of  Red  House  secrets  ;  until,  impelled  of  a  sudden 
by  some  subtile  attraction,  I  looked  up  at  Captain 
Corrie  to  encounter  his  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  me 
with  a  terrible  warning  in  them.  Where  the  sub- 
terfuge that  flashed  in  on  my  thought  and  spoke 
from  my  lips  came  from  I  did  not  know  ;  but  it 
came,  and  what  I  said  was  :  "  He  saw  it  all  in  the 
newspapers,  and  he  told  me  all  about  it — about  you 
and  the  Skye  and — " 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  interrupted  the  little  Countess,  her 
lovely,  candid  eyes  full  in  mine,  "  papa  tried  to  stop 


66  BRhVA'A  : 

the  newspapers  from  printing  it,  but  it  was  too  late. 
He  found*  out  that  a  reporter  had  been  pumping 
the  butler — that's  what  he  said ;  so  they  got  me 
and  Puck  into  the  newspapers,  didn't  they,  Puck  ?" 
and  Puck  wagged  his  tail  in  such  energetic  confir- 
mation that  he  nearly  wagged  himself  double.  "  But 
who's  Zebra  ?"  asked  Brinka  ;  "  such  a  funny  name." 

"  He  was  the  stable-boy  there  where  I  lived,"  I  re- 
turned, all  of  a  tremble  at  the  great  danger  just  es- 
caped by  the  falsehood  I  had  told.  I  recollected 
that  Captain  Corrie  had  said  General  Washington 
never  told  a  lie,  and  I  was  afraid  I  would  never  get 
to  be  President,  after  all.  And  then  I  wondered  if 
General  Washington  had  ever  lived  in  such  an 
awful  place  as  the  Red  House  when  he  was  a  boy, 
and  had  such  dreadful  secrets  to  keep.  Meantime 
the  little  Countess  rattled  on,  telling  me  that  her 
governess  and  maid  were  coming  on  in  the  cars 
from  Boston,  where  they  had  all  been  stopping  for 
a  week  on  her  papa's  business. 

"  Papa  and  I  like  to  travel  in  the  carriage  best. 
We  don't  like  the  cars,"  continued  she,  unmindful  of 
my  silence.  "  I  have  an  awful  good  governess. 
She  lets  me  do  just  as  I  please.  Papa  says  it  is 
well  I  don't  like  to  do  anything  bad.  Next  week 
wre  are  all  going  in  the  steamer  to  Europe  ;  but  we'll 
soon  be  back  again." 

It  was  nightfall  when  we  came  into  the  light  and 
life  of  the  city,  and  as  the  carriage  stopped  before  a 
brilliantly  lighted  hotel,  Brinka  threw  her  arms 
around  my  neck  and  kissed  me  good-bye,  saying  I 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  67 

was  the  very  nicest  boy  she  had  ever  known  in  all 
her  life  (a  life  of  six  years — she  told  me  her  age), 
and  that  she  was  going  to  make  her  father  bring  her 
to  see  me  at  Professor  Wye's. 

We  were  all  out  of  the  carriage  and  Roberts  was 
handing  down  Captain  Corrie's  valise.  Brinka  was 
imperatively  pleading  with  her  father  for  some  favor, 
and  he  was  stroking  her  pretty  hair  with  his  white 
hand  and  gently  shaking  his  head  in  reply. 

"  Papa,  papa,  you  must !"  urged  she,  still  more 
imperatively,  as  she  caught  his  hand  in  both  of  hers. 
"  You  know  you  have  dead  loads  of  likenesses  of 
me  at  home — dead  loads.  The  house  is  full  of 
them,  and  you  won't  miss  just  that  little  one,  papa. 
Besides,  you  have  ME." 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  strange  expression, 
Brinka  ?  Who  did  you  ever  hear  say  '  dead  loads  '?" 
asked  he,  smiling  down  into  her  eager,  upturned 
face.  "  But  as  you  will,  my  pet,"  and  he  took  from 
an  inside  pocket  of  his  coat  a  locket,  and  handed  it 
to  her. 

She  flew  to  me,  unclasped  a  little  gold  chain  from 
her  neck,  slipped  the  locket  on  it,  and  threw  it  over 
my  neck  in  a  pretty,  shy  way. 

"  It's  my  miniature,  Caryl,"  said  she,  "  to  remem- 
ber me  by.  Sometime  you  must  give  me  yours — 
good-bye  !"  She  flew  back  to  her  father,  whilst 
Captain  Corrie,  who  had  been  thanking  him  again 
for  his  kindness,  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  we  two 
were  lost  from  them  in  the  dark  streets. 


68  BRINKA ; 


VIII. 

A   FRIEND   IN    NEED. 

HALF-EXECRATING,  half-deprecating  in  a 
smothered  voice  what  he  termed  his  bar- 
barity in  expecting  me  to  keep  pace  with  his  long 
strides,  Captain  Corrie  caught  me  up  in  his  arms, 
and  plunging  through  the  most  unfrequented  streets, 
stopped  at  length  before  a  barber's  shop,  and  peer- 
ing cautiously  in  through  the  window,  he  entered 
the  open  door. 

"  Bless  me,  Corrie,  you  !"  and  the  man  within 
the  shop,  who  was  quietly  stropping  a  razor,  instead 
of  coming  forward  to  shake  hands,  hastily  threw 
down  the  razor,  then  ran  to  the  door,  bolted  it, 
closed  the  window-shutters,  and  pulled  down  the 
window-shades. 

"  So !"  he  exclaimed,  under  his  breath,  running 
up  to  Captain  Corrie  and  grasping  his  hand.  "  So, 
they  have  not  caught  you  !  Good  !  How  did  you 
contrive  to  give  them  the  slip,  and  what  can  I  do 
for  you  ?" 

"  The  news,  I  see,  has  come  ahead  of  me,  Sam," 
responded  Captain  Corrie,  grimly.  "  I've  cut  loose 
from  her — from  it — from  it  all  forever,  Sam — what- 
ever comes,  forever.  I  am  so  far  on  my  way  to 
New  London  with  this  boy.  Do  you  recognize 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


69 


him,  Sam  ?"  and  he  wheeled  me  around  to  the 
light. 

The  barber  lifted  me  up  into  one  of  his  high 
chairs  and  studied  my  face. 

"  Miss  Agnes'  son,  as  I  live !"  he  ejaculated. 
"  But  how's  this,  Corrie,  I  heard  that  Leighton's 
boy  was  dead  ?" 

"It  was  my  boy  that  died,  Sam.  He  would  have 
been  just  the  age  of  this  one.  He  was  a  bright  boy, 
Sam,  and  I  took  no  end  of  pride  in  him.  But — I'm 
glad  he's  dead,  Sam,  I'm  glad  he's  dead !  It's  the 
only  consolation  I  have  in  it  all.  Yes,  I'm  glad  he's 
dead!"  and  Captain  Corrie  sank  into  a  chair  and  fell 
into  one  of  his  fits  of  gloomy  silence. 

The  tender-hearted  barber  looked  at  him  commis- 
eratingly,  and  turning  to  me  with  eyes  full  of  sym- 
pathy, as  I  sat  perched  up  in  the  high  official  chair, 
he  busied  himself  with  little  things  on  a  shelf  near 
me,  straightened  a  soap  dish,  tried  the  edge  of  a 
razor  on  a  hair  pulled  from  his  head,  and  rinsed  a 
brush  for  lathering  beards :  all  without  saying  a 
word.  Then,  unfolding  a  large  barber's  towel,  he 
pinned  it  around  under  my  chin,  with  the  possi- 
ble intention,  as  I  thought,  of  shaving  me.  But 
instead,  he  gave  me  a  plate  of  luscious  apricots  that 
he  took  from  a  basket  over  on  a  table. 

Just  then  some  one  outside  tried  to  open  the  door, 
and  then  rattled  the  slats  of  the  window-shutter,  as 
though  endeavoring  to  look  through  into  the  shop. 

"  What,  the  deuce  !  I  wonder  what's  up  with  Sam 
Bowen  ?"  exclaimed  a  fresh,  resonant  voice  outside. 


-ro  BRINK  A  : 

"  Shut  up  shop  and  gone  into  mourning  for  his 
old  fellow-servant,  Corrie  Redwood,"  responded 
another  voice,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Who's  Corrie  Redwood,  and  what's  Corrie  Red- 
wood done  ?"  asked  the  first  voice  and  the  door  was 
tried  again. 

"  Done  ?  Been  cracking  open  houses  up  there  in 
Boston  ;  police  out  after  him  ;  big  reward  ;  photos 
of  him  in  every  police  station.  He's  cut  and  run; 
stole  his  own  boy  to  bring  him  up  a  thief;  wife 
stands  ready  to  testify  ;  lots  of  others  can  testify  ; 
wife  nearly  frantic  ;  wife  handsome  ;  wife  an  angel ; 
wife  offers  another  big  reward  for  the  recovery  of 
her  son ;  all  the  papers  sympathize  with  wife ;  alto- 
gether he's  a  bad  lot ;  only  just  found  out." 

"  Whew !  you  can't  mean  the  Corrie  Redwood 
who  was  coachman  at  General  Forsythc's  along 
with  Sam  Bowen,  and  who  married  and  set  up 
public  house  near  Boston  ?" 

"  I  never  heard  of  any  other  Corrie  Redwood." 

"'Why,  poor  old  General  Forsythe  thought  the 
world  and  all  of  him.  He  turned  burglar  !  I  won- 
der if  /';//  not  a  burglar." 

"  /  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  the  first  voice,  with  a 
laugh. 

"  Why,  General  Forsythe  used  to  trust  him  with 
— everything.  He  used  to  accompany  Miss  For- 
sythe on  her  rides.  And  how  she  did  sit  the  saddle ! 
and  how  pretty  she  was !  and  how  proud  the  Gen- 
eral was  of  his  beautiful  daughter  'Agnes!'  and  what 
a  sad  fate  was  hers!" 


AN  AMERICAN  CO UNTESS.  j  i 

"  He  knows  what  he's  talking  about,"  muttered 
Captain  Corrie,  scarcely  above  a  whisper,  who  was 
attentively  listening. 

"  Hush — sh!"  warned  Sam  Bowen. 

"What,  ho!  within!  Methinks  I  heard  a  voice," 
ejaculated  one  of  the  voices  without.  "  Is  that  you, 
Sam  ?  I  must  have  a  shave  and  a  trim-up  for  to- 
night," and  the  door  rattled  again. 

"  No  voice,  no  Sam,  no  shave,  no  trim,"  returned 
the  other.  "  'Twas  only  Sam's  cat  sneezing.  The 
wish  was  father  to  the  thought." 

"  A  good  deal  farther.  But  Corrie  Redwood ! 
such  a  fine,  open  countenance  ;  such  a  magnificent 
beard ;  such  a  fine,  tall,  broad-shouldered  fellow — 
six  feet  if  an  indi !  I  can't  believe  it  of  him." 

"  If  he'd  been  a  short,  narrow-shouldered  duffer, 
with  scant,  sandy  beard,  and  an  ugly  mug,  you'd 
have  believed  it  of  him,  eh  ?" 

"  Come,  let's  take  a  turn  till  Sam  gets  back,"  was 
the  reply. 

"  And  let  us  go  in  and  have  some  supper,  you're 
not  safe  here,"  said  Sam  Bowen,  as  the  voices  died 
away.  "  Maggie's  off  on  a  visit  to  her  mother's 
with  the  children,  and  I  am  here  all  alone.  It  is 
just  as  well  for  you — not  on  Maggie's  account,  she 
is  as  true  as  steel,  but  the  children  might  let  out 
something  about  you  to  arouse  suspicion." 

"  But  I've  lost  you  customers,  Sam,"  lamented 
Captain  Corrie,  as  we  followed  Sam  into  a  back 
room. 

"  They'll  be  back  again,  never  fear.     They're  two 


j2  BRINKA  • 

young  nobs  who  always  come  to  me — say  no  one 
else  can  cut  hair  so  well." 

"  No  wonder  they're  surprised  at  my  being — what 
I  am.  Nothing  could  have  made  me  believe  it  of 
myself  three  years  ago,"  gloomed  Captain  Corrie, 
as  he  sat  down  to  the  table. 

"All  owing  to  the  influence  of  woman,  Corrie. 
The  influence  of  woman  is — im — mense /"  asserted 
Sam,  pausing  to  give  weight  to  his  words,  while 
deftly  tying  one  of  his  own  children's  pinafores  on 
me.  "  We're  all  alike,  Corrie — we're  nothing  but 
infants  in  their  hands ;  the  influence  of  woman — I 
— tell  you — is — im — MENSE!"  And  Sam  piled  up  my 
plate  with  cold  chicken,  baked  beans,  and  cranberry 
jelly  indiscriminately.  "And,  Corrie,  it  is  well  for 
those  who  get  a  good  one,  as,  good  or  bad,  they 
rule,  you  see.  Now,  if  Maggie  had  been  like  —like 
that,  instead  of  one  of  the  most  conscientious  little 
women  in  the  world,  why,  I — " 

"  Oh !  you.  You  would  never  have  given  way  as  I 
did,  Sam,"  asserted  Captain  Corrie,  with  bitter  self- 
disgust. 

"  Say  what  you  will,  Corrie,  and  it's  pleasant  to 
have  you  here  talking  whichever  way — you  can't 
get  around  the  greatest  truth  the  world  contains 
(and  which  has  been  the  greatest  truth  ever  since 
Eve  ate  the  apple,  and  wouldn't  rest  until  Adam 
had  eaten  one,  too)  that  we're  just  what  they 
make  us.  The  influence  of  woman  is — IM — 

MENSE  !" 

"  If    I'd    only   taken    your   advice,    Sam.      You 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  73 

warned  me  of  her.  And  I — I  would  not  be 
warned." 

"  I  did  not  like  the  company  she  kept,  nor  the 
look  of  her  tawny  eyes,  nor — " 

"  No,  I  wouldn't  listen  to  any  one  but  her — I  was 
that  dead  in  love  with  her.  I  was  that  dead  in  love 
with  her  that  I  would  have  died  before  I'd  have 
given  her  up.  And  from  the  first  I  was  that  blinded 
by  her  beauty,  that  intoxicated  by  her  preference 
for  me,  I  was  simply  wax  in  her  hands — a  miser- 
able puppet — without  even  the  wretched  consolation 
left  of  feeling  I  have  any  one  to  blame  in  it  all  but 
myself,"  groaned  Captain  Corrie,  in  dismal  retro- 
spection. 

"  Just  as  I  said,  Corrie.  The  influence  of  woman 
is  im — " 

"And  now  here  I  am — in  for  it,"  interrupted  Cap- 
tain Corrie,  moodily,  looking  with  reproachful  eyes 
at  the  cold  fowl  on  the  table  before  him,  as  though 
by  some  chance  it  might  have  been  accessory  before 
the  fact  when  cackling  treason  in  the  barn-yard. 

"  Oh  !  we'll  devise  some  plan  to  get  you  out  of  it, 
never  fear ;  there'll  be  a  way  out,"  asserted  Sam, 
cheerfully.  "  I  am  not  the  man  to  turn  a  cold 
shoulder  on  a  friend  if  he  has  been  a  little  crooked 
or  so.  '  The  crooked  can  be  made  straight,  and  the 
rough  places  plain.'  We've  Scripture  for  that,"  and 
he  helped  me  to  more  jelly. 

"  If  I  can  once  get  Miss  Agnes' — Mrs.  Leighton's 
— boy  here  in  a  safe  place — and  the  worst  of  it  is  that 
his  safety  even  then  will  depend  on  my  keeping  out 


74  BRINKA  : 

of  the  way  where  they  can't  find  me.  If  they  get 
me,  Nance  will  have  a  writ  out  for  the  boy,  and  her 
witnesses  to  prove  that  he  is  her  own  son,  and  you 
know  what  that  means." 

"  We'll  not  let  it  come  to  that,  Corrie,  never.  But 
help  yourself  to  more  of  the  chicken,  Corrie,  and  try 
this  macaroni.  There's  a  way  out  of  it  into  a  true 
life  once  more.  And  as  for  the  boy  here,  there's  a 
plenty  of  us  can  prove  he's  Leighton's  son.  I  could 
swear  to  him  in  a  million.  So  could  Maggie.  So 
could  Mort  Binns — Mortimer's  in  New  London 
now ;  set  up  in  a  livery  stable.  He  was  disappointed 
in  love  two  or  three  years  ago  ;  she  jilted  him,  and 
he's  turned  tragic  and  cynical ;  but  he's  made  of 
good  stuff,  and  he'll  never  go  back  on  an  old  friend. 
And  Maggie,  why,  she's  got  a  photograph  of  the 
boy  here,  in  her  drawer,  that  was  taken  not  long 
before  his  mother's  death.  And  we  all  know  just 
when  she  died  and  when  you  took  the  boy — three 
years  ago.  And  all  that  can  be  done  to  help  get 
you  back  once  more  into  a  right  life  I'll  do — my 
word  for  it." 

"A  friend  in  need  is  a — is  better  than  gold,"  said 
Captain  Corrie,  in  a  husky  voice  ;  and,  rising  from 
the  table,  he  took  a  turn  to  and  fro  the  length  of 
the  room,  and  fetched  up  with  his  back  toward  us 
before  a  chromo,  representing  Rizpah  at  her  pro- 
longed watch  whilst  keeping  off  the  birds  of  the  air 
and  the  beasts  of  the  field  from  the  bodies  of  her 
sons — the  seven  sons  of  Saul,  whom  the  Gibeonites 
had  hanged  together. 


AX  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  ye 

The  chromo  as  a  work  of  art  could  not  be  ex- 
tolled for  its  merit,  but  the  ghastly  subject  seemed 
to  have  afforded  Captain  Corrie  great  consola- 
tion, for  he  came  and  sat  down  again,  his  chair 
pushed  back  from  the  supper-table,  with  more  of 
his  customary  composure  than  he  had  manifested 
since  he  entered  the  barber's  house. 

"  But  you  can't  deny,  Corrie,  but  what  the  gold 
is  always  a  great  help,"  asserted  Sam,  with  a  short 
laugh,  replying  to  Captain  Corrie's  remark,  as 
though  there  had  been  no  break  in  the  conversation. 
"  There's  my  customers !  I  hear  them  rattling  at 
the  shop-door.  Keep  quiet  in  here,  you  two,  and 
I'll  be  back  in  no  time,"  and  Sam  went  out  of  the 
room,  closing  the  door  after  him. 

We  stopped  at  the  barber's  three  days,  keeping 
very  close.  Plans  were  talked  over  and  rejected, 
and  plans  were  talked  over  and  accepted. 

The  result  was,  we  started  for  New  London  at 
dusk  in  a  fishing  smack,  Sam  Bowen  accompanying 
us.  Captain  Corrie,  disguised  as  an  elderly  man 
afflicted  with  rheumatism,  retired  to  the  cabin  as 
soon  as  we  got  on  board. 

Sam  Bowen,  being  up  on  deck  with  me,  watch- 
ing the  smack  leave  the  lights  of  Providence  be- 
hind her,  the  Captain,  a  man  square-built,  florid,  and 
jocund,  came  up  and  joined  us. 

"  I  laid  out  to  go  off  on  the  Banks  to-morrow," 
said  he,  sweeping  the  murky  horizon  with  his  hand, 
"  but  concluded  to  wait  until  the  storm  was  over. 
I  don't  like  bein'  on  the  Banks  in  a  storm.  And 


76  BR1XKA : 

as  I  had  business  in  New  Lunnon,  you  see,  I 
thought  I'd — " 

"A  storm !"  exclaimed  Sam,  looking  up  into  the 
sky  with  the  unvveather-wise  eyes  of  a  barber. 

"  Them  thunderheads  didn't  bank  up  in  the  nor'- 
west  this  afternoon,  and  them  mare's  tails  go  switch- 
in'  over  the  whole  lenth  of  the  sky  for  nothing," 
returned  the  Captain.  "  Before  to-morrow  noon 
we'll  have  the  wind  howling  from  the  sou'east ;  but 
we'll  be  in  New  Lunnun  safe  and  sound  afore  the 
gale  comes  up,  you  see.  The  Liddy  Ann  Skid- 
more's  a  fast  craft — she's  named  for  my  wife,"  and 
Captain  Skidmore,  lighting  his  short  pipe,  went  aft 
and  took  the  tiller,  to  let  the  mate  turn  in,  he  said, 
for  the  first  watch. 

Sam  Bowen  and  I  followed  the  mate  down  the 
companion-way,  I  also  turning  in — which  I  discov- 
ered was  going  to  bed  in  one  of  a  double  row  of 
shelves  in  the  cabin. 

The  Captain's  prophecy  of  a  storm  was  verified 
sooner  than  he  expected ;  for  in  the  night  he  was 
compelled  to  run  into  Newport  harbor,  where  we 
found  ourselves  lying  at  anchor  the  next  morning 
under  the  guns  of  Fort  Adams,  the  wind  blowing  a 
gale  from  the  southeast,  and  the  rain  pouring  in 
torrents. 

On  the  morning  of  the  second  day,  the  storm 
having  spent  its  fury,  the  sun  rose  with  a  warm,  yel- 
low light,  making  long,  swart  shadows  on  the 
water  from  across  on  the  shores  around.  And  the 
tender  light,  as  it  fell  softly  on  the  young  June 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


77 


foliage,  made  all  things  look  so  inviting  in  their 
rain-washed  brightness  that  when  the  Captain  of  the 
"  Liddy  Ann  Skidmore  " — after  our  early  breakfast 
on  the  steward's  celebrated  clam-chowder — pro- 
posed taking  us  ashore  over  to  Newport  for  about 
three  hours  or  so  before  weighing  anchor,  I  felt  a 
thrill  of  delight  at  the  prospect. 

"  Great  pity,  Mr.  Jennings,  that  you  have  to  stick 
down  here  in  the  cabin  instead  of  taking  an  airing 
with  us  this  fine  morning,"  observed  the  Captain  to 
Captain  Corrie,  adding : 

"  This  bein'  in  the  clutches  of  the  rheumatics  is 
about  as  bad  as  bein'  in  the  clutches  of  the  police 
— though  of  the  two  /  should  prefer  the  rheuma- 
tiz,"  and  Captain  Skidmore  laughed. 

I  saw  Captain  Corrie  cast  a  sharp  look  of  scrutiny 
at  him  out  from  under  his  false  gray  eyebrows. 
But  it  was  a  random  shot,  intended  only  as  an  ex- 
pression of  condolence ;  and  Captain  Corrie  re- 
sumed his  study  of  the  nautical  chart  on  the  table 
before  him. 

We  rowed  across  to  Newport  in  the  smack's 
small  boat,  the  Captain  giving  Sam  a  lesson  in 
feathering  his  oar,  and  telling  him,  with  a  hilarious 
laugh,  that  with  a  little  practice  he  might  be  trusted 
with  a  dory,  and  that  he  had  better  give  up  barber- 
ing  and  take  to  the  water. 

"  You'll  find  Spoutin'  Rock  a-spoutin'  at  its  very 
best,"  he  declared,  as  we  touched  the  dock  and  he 
began  making  fast  his  boat.  "  And  as  for  Purga- 
tory— well,  a  sou'easter  always  does  the  business, 


-3  BRINK  A  : 

lashin'  the  waves  into  a  ragin'  fury  and  makin'  them 
go  boomin'  and  thunderin'  through  the  black  chasm 
of  Purgatory  like  roarin'  mad ;  and  dashin'  the 
waters  up  through  the  roof  of  Spoutin'  Cave  into 
as  pretty  a  series  of  water  spouts  as  you'd  wish  to 
see,  sixty  foot  high,  sometimes — for  all  the  world 
like — like,"  Captain  Skidmore,  with  a  broad  grin, 
gave  a  great  wink  at  Sam,  "  like  a  sleepin'  sperm 
whale  struck  by  a  man-of-war." 

"  I  declare,  the  Captain  didn't  pile  up  the  agony 
any  too  high.  It's  im-mense  /"  exclaimed  Sam,  as 
we  left  the  rocky  cliffs  and  black  waters  of  Purga- 
tory, my  soul  thrilled  with  awe. 

And  the  air  of  antiquity  Sam  contrived  to  infuse 
in  his  narration  of  the  legend  of  the  Round  Tower, 
when  we  stood  in  Touro  Park  looking  at  it,  made 
me  see  the  ancient  Druids  in  their  long,  white  beards 
and  robes  and  rrtysterious  symbols,  performing  their 
solemn  rites  within. 

The  band  over  at  Fort  Adams  commenced  play- 
ing just  as  our  smack  filled  sail  to  leave  Newport 
harbor — in  honor  of  our  departure,  Captain  Skid- 
more  gravely  declared,  as  he  took  his  stump  of  a 
pipe  from  his  mouth. 

I  listened  to  the  grand  music  with  rapture — no 
other  word  can  express  the  delight  I  experienced 
in  the  inspiriting  melodies — believing  the  Captain. 

For  Fort  Dumpling,  on  our  right,  so  utterly  des- 
olate and  deserted,  I  felt  sorry.  It  put  me  in  mind 
of  the  great  fish-hawks'  empty  nests,  ragged  and 
conspicuous,  up  in  the  bare  winter  branches  of 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  jg 

some  giant  oak  or  elm,  back  from  the  lonely 
strand. 

"  And  that  is  Beaver  Tail  Light-house,"  explained 
Sam  Bowen,  as  we  passed  it  by,  "  and  up  there  at 
the  top's  the  light  to  show  vessels  where  the  rocks 
are."  I  looked  up  at  the  top  and  saw  the  blinding 
gleam  of  the  sun's  rays  flashing  from  glass  and 
metal,  and  concluded  that  was  the  light,  but  said 
nothing. 

Within  an  hour  we  were  abreast  Narragansett 
Pier,  and  the  life  and  stir  and  gay  dresses  of  the 
bathers,  fishers,  and  promenaders  of  the  lively 
watering-place  made  a  pretty  picture,  contrasting 
with  the  rocky  scenery  around  it. 

As  we  arrived  off  Point  Judith  the  Captain  joined 
us ;  (it  was  always  Sam  Bowen  and  I  on  deck, 
Captain  Corrie  never  leaving  the  cabin),  and  he 
pointed  out  the  reef  on  which  he  said  he  had  once 
been  wrecked. 

"  It  was  five  year  ago.  We  was  come  off  from 
the  banks" — taking  a  quid  of  tobacco  from  his 
mouth,  he  tossed  it  overboard,  and  proceeded :  "  And 
we  had  our  well  chock  full  of  the  finest  cod  you 
ever  see.  We'd  ben  havin'  a  pretty  stiff  breeze, 
all  we  could  crack  to,  from  the  east'ard  all  the 
afternoon  and  was  makin'  straight  for  New  Lun'un. 
Suddenly  the  wind  took  a  turn  more  to  the  south- 
'ard  and  began  to  blow  a  livin'  gale.  I've  never 
liked  a  sou'-sou'east  wind  ever  since.  The  night 
come  on  as  dark  as  a  stack  of  black  cats,  and  every 
time  a  great  sea  washed  over  our  deck  we  had  to 


8o  BK/XA'A  .- 

cling  on  to  anything  we  could  ketch  a  hold  of  for 
our  lives.  We  was  off  Point  Judy,  right  over 
there,  and  was  a-steerin'  in  for  the  harbor  and 
keepin'  off  the  rocks — every  rope  and  timber 
creakin'  and  strainin',  and  we  double  reefed,  jib  and 
tops'l  furled,  and  all  as  taut  as  we  could  make  it, 
when  of  a  sudden  there  come  a  tremendous  sea  and 
a  tremendous  puff  of  wind  (sou'east  wind  is  always 
flawy),  and  then  a  crash.  Our  mast  and  mains'l 
was  carried  away,  and  before  you  could  say  Julius 
Caesar  we  was  driven  on  the  reef,  right  over  there, 
and  the  next  sea  washed  us  clean  up  on  the  shore, 
bruised  and  broken,  the  life  well  nigh  beaten  out  of 
us.  One  of  us  contrived  to  crawl  to  the  light-house 
for  help,  and  we  lost  only  one  man — the  other  two 
and  me  got  nussed  back  to  life,  but  it  was  a  tight 
squeak — the  tightest  squeak  I  ever  see.  I  was 
knocked  around  considerable  after  that,  but  now  I 
own  this  snug  little  schooner,  and  no  thanks  to  any 
one  but  my  wife,  who  had  five  hundred  dollars  left 
her  two  year  ago  when  we  was  married,  and  she 
put  it  in  to  help  out." 

"  What  became  of  the  fish  ?"  I  asked,  desperately 
interested  in  the  Captain's  story. 

"  The  fish  ! — oh  !  yes,  them  cod,"  returned  he,  with 
a  peculiar  smile.  "  Why,  our  sloop  was  driven  up 
high  and  dry  on  the  rocks,  all  stove  to  flinders.  So, 
the  wrell  bein'  smashed  in,  them  cod»  of  course—- 
with some  of  their  scales  scraped  off  by  the  rocks, 
most  likely — did  not  stop  to  exchange  compliments, 
but  swum  back  to  their  native  ledges  out  on  the 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  8 1 

banks  as  fast  as  they  could  go — sadder  and  wiser 
fish." 

The  Captain  winked  at  Sam  Bowen,  took  out 
from  his  pocket  a  plug  of  tobacco,  cut  off  a  piece 
with  his  jack-knife,  popped  it  into  his  mouth,  and 
walked  over  to  where  one  of  the  sailors  was  splicing 
rope. 

A  heavy  fog-bank  closed  around  us  in  the  after- 
noon, and  by  the  time  we  reached  New  London,  the 
fog  was  so  dense  that  it  was  difficult  to  distinguish 
objects  a  few  rods  off  The  bells  from  the  Hum- 
mocks and  the  lightboat  came  booming  over  from 
the  distance,  and  the  hoarse  whistles  of  tugs  and 
steamers  sounded  all  around  us. 

The  light-house  at  the  mouth  of  New  London 
harbor  loomed  up  out  from  the  fog  as  we  sailed 
close  by  it,  tall,  white,  and  misty,  like  the  ghost 
of  a  gigantic  Cyclops,  with  his  one  blazing  eye 
glaring  down  on  us,  while  the  double  fog-horn  be- 
neath it,  sent  out  unearthly  wails  that  might  have 
been  the  groans  of  the  Cyclopean  giant  in  mortal 
agony. 

Awaiting  us  in  a  covered  carriage  at  the  dock, 
was  Mr.  Mortimer  Binns — tall,  gaunt,  and  melan- 
choly— who  carried  his  disappointment  in  love 
around  with  him,  and  looked  as  though  he  had 
been  born  disappointed  in  love.  He  drove  us  to 
his  rooms,  over  his  stables,  in  a  small  street,  open- 
ing out  of  Bank  Street,  where  he  lived  close  under 
the  roof,  in  bachelor  seclusion. 

We  remained  over  night  with  him,  he  declaring 


82  BRINKA : 

with  melodramatic  fervor,  that  he  would  see  Cor- 
rie  through,  if  it  took  the  last  cent  and  the  last  drop 
of  blood  he  had. 

"  We'll  stop  short  of  the  last  red,  copper  or 
claret,  Mort,"  replied  Captain  Corrie,  grimly.  Sam 
Bowen  laughed,  looked  at  Mort's  serious  face,  and 
checked  himself. 

Captain  Corrie  had  suddenly  recovered  from  his 
rheumatism  and  from  his  name  of  Jennings,  and 
was  very  spruce  again  under  the  manipulation  of 
Sam  Bowen,  though  not  like  himself  with  his  heavy 
beard  shaved  off. 

There  was  much  conversation  in  the  evening 
about  the  old  times  when  all  three  were  fellow- 
servants  at  my  grandfather's,  and  Mortimer  Binns 
made  use  of  a  great  variety  of  thrilling  adjectives  to 
express  his  gratification  at  the  meeting  and  his  de- 
termination to  stand  by  an  old  friend  through  flood 
and  fire. 

After  a  sumptuous  breakfast  that  had  been  or- 
dered from  a  restaurant  and  served  in  Mort's  best 
room,  we  started  for  Professor  Wye's  school. 

It  was  a  small,  light,  one-horse  wagon  for  carry- 
ing sewing-machines  that  Mortimer  made  ready  for 
us,  as  being  close  curtained  and  not  likely  to  attract 
attention.  Ensconced  in  the  back  of  the  wagon,  in 
the  place  of  a  sewing-machine,  Captain  Corrie  sat, 
hidden  from  view,  Sam  Bowen  driving,  and  I  be- 
side him  on  the  driver's  seat.  Mort  Binns  had 
watched  until  the  street  was  free  from  people  before 
whistling  for  us,  and,  as  we  drove  off,  he  hoped,  in 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  83 

a  stage-whisper,  that  benignant  Fate  would  smile 
auspiciously  on  us. 

We  crossed  the  Thames  River  over  to  Groton  in 
the  queer,  crude  little  ferry-boat  that  started  from 
the  foot  of  State  Street,  where  a  large-lettered  sign 
gave  to  the  world  the  legend  that  foot-passengers 
were  carried  across  for  four  cents  each,  and  cattle, 
sheep,  and  pigs  for  so  much  a  head. 

As  we  drove  up  the  hill  from  the  ferry,  Sam 
Bowen  pointed  out  a  French  man-of-war  and  an 
American  school-ship,  lying  at  anchor  in  the  har- 
bor among  various  handsome  yachts,  fishing- 
smacks,  clumsy  coal -barges,  and  excursion- 
steamers. 

"And  over  there  across  the  river,  just  below  New 
London,"  continued  he,  "  you  see  Fort  Trumbull. 
And  right  in  front  of  us  here,  on  this  side — the 
earthworks  there — was  Fort  Griswold.  And  this 
high  tower  here's  the  monument  erected  to  the 
brave  soldiers  who  were  massacred  within  Fort 
Griswold  by  the  traitor  Arnold  and  his  men.  It's 
historic  ground  we're  on,  my  boy,"  and  Sam  swept 
his  arm  toward  the  monument,  tall  and  grim,  and 
the  earthworks,  grassed  over  for  nearly  a  cen- 
tury, on  which  stupid,  unhistoric  cows  were  graz- 
ing. "  Down  there,"  continued  he,  indicating  the 
spot,  though  I  could  not  make  it  out,  "  down 
there  is  the  marble  slab  to  the  memory  of  Colonel 
Ledyard,  who  had  command  of  the  fort,  and  who, 
when  he  handed  his  sword  to  one  of  Arnold's  offi- 
cers in  surrender,  had  that  very  sword  thrust  into 


84  BRINKA  : 

his  own  breast  in  cold  blood  by  that  officer,"  and 
Sam  paused. 

"  If  I'd  been  there  I'd  have  killed  that  officer !"  I 
exclaimed,  at  boiling  heat  over  Sam's  recital. 

From  the  back  of  the  wagon  where  he  sat,  his 
hat  slouched  over  his  eyes,  composedly  avoiding 
the  appearance  of  shunning  observation,  Captain 
Corrie  reached  forth  a  hand  and  laid  it  with  a  gentle 
touch  upon  my  shoulder. 

"  If  I'd  been  there,"  said  he,  "  I'd  have  felt  like 
doing  just  the  same." 

"  The  boy  is  sharp  if  he  is  little !"  exclaimed  Sam 
Bowen,  looking  me  up  and  down,  taking  in  my  mea- 
sure as  I  sat  beside  him,  my  head  reaching  but  little 
above  his  waist,  and  my  feet  dangling  half-way  from 
the  floor  of  the  wagon — "  sharp  enough  for  a  Con- 
necticut lawyer ;  only,  whatever  else  you  are,  never 
be  a  lawyer,  for  it's  very  doubtful  if  a  lawyer  ever 
gets  to  Heaven." 

I  was  going  to  ask  why,  but  Captain  Corrie  was 
speaking. 

"  If  it  could  have  been  my  lot,"  said  he,  in  a  voice 
vibrating  with  feeling,  "  to  be  one  of  those  slaugh- 
tered men  in  that  fort  we  have  just  passed,  I  should 
have  gloried  in  myself.  But  to  be  what  I  am,  and 
to  know  myself  for  what  I  am,  and  to  know  what, 
step  by  step,  I  was  growing  to  be  these  three  years 
past — too  weak  in  purpose  to  resist  the  influence 
that  was  changing  me  from  what  I  was  to  what  I 
am — fills  me  with  such  self-loathing  as  no  words 
can  express.  There's  little  to  •  choose  between  a 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  gjj 

traitor  to  one's  conviction  of  right  and  a  traitor  to 
one's  country." 

"  The  first  kind  don't  kill  so  many  people,  Corrie," 
extenuated  Sam.  "  And  when  repented  of  and 
atoned  for  before  any  killing  is  done,  that  kind  has 
every  chance  in  the  world  left  him." 

Captain  Corrie  broke  into  a  low  laugh. 

"  Sam,  you're  as  good  as  a  woman — a  good 
woman — in  consoling  a  poor  devil  of  a  sinner,  and 
you're  quite  as  logical." 

Captain  Corrie  stopped  speaking  suddenly  as  a 
carriage  filled  with  people  drove  by.  Thinking  my 
time  had  come,  I  asked  why  lawyers  couldn't  get 
to  Heaven. 

"  Oh  !  some  do — the  good  ones,"  emphasized  Sam. 

Captain  Corrie  laughed  softly  again. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  story  of  the  fox  and  the 
cheese  in  '^Esop's  Fables  ?' "  asked  Sam. 

Proud  of  being  so  learned,  I  replied  in  the 
affirmative,  saying  "^Esop's  Fables  "  was  one  of  the 
books  Captain  Corrie  gave  me  and  read  to  me  when 
I  was  ill. 

"  That  fox  was  a  lawyer,"  said  Sam,  sententiously. 

"  I'd  rather  be  the  cat  and  have  all  my  cheese 
eaten  up  before  my  eyes,"  I  declared. 

"  If  you're  a  wise  cat,  never  give  the  fox  a  chance 
at  your  cheese." 

Sam  said  this  so  impressively,  that  I  was  won- 
dering how  much  of  his  cheese  some  fox  had  eaten, 
as  we  drove  up  to  a  large  brown  house  inclosed 
within  handsomely. laid-out  grounds. 


BRINKA: 


IX. 

PROFESSOR    WYE. 

SAM  BOWEN  remained  in  the  carriage,  and 
Captain  Corrie  and  I  were  shown  by  a  dignified 
waiter  in  rusty  black  into  a  bright,  airy  room,  look- 
ing out  on  a  garden  filled  with  the  greatest  profu- 
sion of  flowers  blooming  from  tree,  trellis,  arbor, 
and  bed. 

Within  the  deep  embrasure  of  a  bay-window  at 
the  end  of  the  room  sat  a  white-haired  gentleman 
writing,  and  at  his  feet  reposed  a  St.  Bernard  dog 
of  the  largest  size.  Rising  at  our  entrance,  the 
gentleman,  motioning  to  chairs,  asked  us  to  be 
seated,  while  the  dog,  also  rising,  walked  deliber- 
ately over  to  me,  looked  in  my  face,  while  he  slowly 
swept  his  long-fringed  tail  to  and  fro,  and,  appar- 
ently satisfied  with  his  inspection,  laid  a  huge  paw 
on  my  shoulder,  very  nearly  upsetting  me.  I  re- 
gained my  balance  by  catching  hold  of  one  of  his 
long,  silky  ears,  which  liberty,  instead  of  ruffling 
his  temper,  seemed  to  please  him,  and  he  regarded 
me  from  his  soft  brown  eyes  with  a  look  as  gracious 
as  that  Mother  Hubbard  bestows  on  her  dog  in  the 
picture  book. 

"  Marco  welcomes  you,  my  son,"  said  our  host, 
with  a  comprehensive  smile ;  "  and  you  may  accept 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  g^ 

his  welcome  as  a  mark  of  distinction,  for  he  is  chary 
of  his  favors."  Then,  looking  interrogatively  toward 
Captain  Corrie,  who  had  taken  the  proffered  seat, 
he  resumed  his  own  chair. 

"  This  gentleman,"  returned  Captain  Corrie,  speak- 
ing to  me  instead  of  replying  to  the  questioning  look 
of  our  host,  and  regarding  me  with  that  softened 
suffusion  of  his  eyes  I  had  so  often  seen  since  we 
had  become  so  well  acquainted,  "  is  Professor  Wye, 
who  will  teach  you  everything  worth  knowing,  if  he 
will  kindly  take  you  into  his  school ;  which  (and  he 
turned  toward  the  Professor)  is  the  object  of  our 
visit,  sir." 

It  did  not  need  this  especial  introduction  to  in- 
duce me  to  attentively  regard  the  Professor,  as  his 
abundant  white  hair,  his  peculiar  repose  of  manner, 
his  benignant  face,  full  of  decision  as  well  as  gen- 
tleness, and  his  dark  gray  eyes,  so  penetrating  and 
yet  so  kindly,  at  once  attracted  me,  and  I  obeyed 
with  alacrity  his  request  to  come  to  him. 

Marco  accompanied  me  across  the  room  and 
stood  by  my  side  before  the  Professor,  as  though  we 
were  in  class  and  about  to  recite  a  lesson  together. 

With  a  great  smile  the  Professor  reached  forth  a 
long  arm  and  patted  the  dog's  head,  whilst  with  his 
other  hand  he  drew  me  gently  toward  him  and 
asked  me  my  name,  Marco  looking  intelligently  on, 
also  wishing  to  know  my  name. 

Desiring  to  be  very  exact,  I  considered. 

"  One  of  my  names,"  I  answered,  "  is  Leighton, 
I  heard  Captain  Corrie  telling  Mr.  Vaughan.  I 


88  BRIXA'A  : 

told  Brinka  my  first  name  was  Caryl,  for  I  was  sure 
it  could  not  be  Miss  Maudie.  I  think  my  name  is 
Caryl,  sir." 

It  was  with  a  puzzled,  although  a  very  sympa- 
thetic, look  the  Professor  regarded  me  before  turn- 
ing to  Captain  Corrie. 

"  It  would  be  strange  if  he  did  know  his  name, 
sir ;  he  had  so  many  nicknames  at  that  infer — at  the 
Red  House,"  exclaimed  Captain  Corrie,  in  his  most 
rumbling  bass.  "  His  name,  sir,  is  Caryl  Forsythe 
Leighton,  and  he  is  the  grandson  of  the  late  Gen- 
eral Forsythe,  at  whose  house  in  days  gone  by  you 
were  so  frequent  a  visitor." 

"  True,"  said  the  Professor,  casting  on  me  a  quick 
look  of  deepening  interest.  He  had  seated  me  on  a 
low  chair  near  him,  and  Marco  was  now  slumbering 
with  his  great  head  resting  on  my  lap.  "  You  say 
he  is  General  Forsythe's  grandson  ?"  he  continued. 
"  That  accounts  for  the  resemblance  he  bears  to 
General  Forsythe's  beautiful  young  daughter.  How 
old  are  you,  Caryl?"  he  inquired  of  me,  kindly, 
putting  his  hand  down  under  my  chin  and  lifting  up 
my  face  to  study  it. 

I  wished  to  say,  "  A  thousand  years  old,  sir,"  for 
I  felt  old,  like  the  granite  hills  we  passed  in  the  car- 
riage the  day  before  ;  but  I  said :  "  I  must  be  seven 
years  old,  sir,  for  Zebra  gave  me  seven  good,  hard 
whacks  with  his  currycomb  the  other  day  for  being 
seven." 

"  He  was  seven  on  the  fifteenth  of  March,  sir,  and 
it  is  now  June.  '  The  Ides  of  March,'  his  mother 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  gg 

said — as  she  put  him  in  my  charge,  sir.  And  I  hope 
he  is  where  he'll  get  no  more  whacks." 

The  Professor  drew  his  hand  gently  from  my 
chin,  replying  to  Captain  Corrie  after  a  prolonged 
silence. 

"  You  were  one  of  General  Forsythe's  grooms,  I 
think — Corrie  Redwood,  if  I  mistake  not  ?"  he  said. 

"  At  your  service,  sir ;  but  what  I  was  then  I  am 
not  now."  And  Captain  Corrie's  face  fell,  and  he 
spoke  huskily  as  he  added,  "  I  might  have  been — 
somebody  instead  of  the  less  than  nobody  I  am  if  I 
had  paid  heed  to  the  good  advice  Miss  Agnes  gave 
me  long  before  she  was  Mrs.  Leighton." 

"  What  you  are  and  what  you  may  have  made  of 
yourself,  Mr.  Redwood,"  returned  the  Professor, 
mildly,  "you  know  best;  but  in  those  times  you 
were  in  high  favor  with  General  Forsythe." 

"  And  you  remember  that,  Professor  Wye  ?"  ex- 
claimed Captain  Corrie,  eagerly. 

With  a  peculiar  smile,  but  always  kindly,  the 
Professor  said : 

"  Years  bring  their  changes  with  them.  When  I 
left  Boston  for  this  secluded  spot,  eight  years  ago, 
soon  after  the  sudden  marriage  of  Agnes — Miss 
Forsythe — to  young  Leighton,  I  lost  all  track  of  the 
family  further  than  to  hear  of  the  General's  loss  of 
property  and  subsequent  death,  and  a  contradicted 
report  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Leighton.  I  should  be 
glad  to  hear  that  she  is  well  and  happy." 

"  She  is  dead,  sir — died  of  a  broken  heart.  Mr. 
Leighton  it  was  who  caused  the  General  to  lose  his 


£0  BRINKA  : 

property  through  wild  speculation.  And  having 
forged  to  a  large  amount  he  ran  off  to  Europe,  de- 
serting his  young  wife,  leaving  her  actually  penni- 
less. 

The  Professor  grew  very  thoughtful. 

"  There  was  a  little  girl,  was  there  not  ?"  he  asked, 
at  length. 

"  Born  nearly  two  years  after  Caryl,"  asserted 
Captain  Corrie.  "  Leighton  took  the  infant  to  Eu- 
rope with  him." 

"  Was  he  so  fond  of  the  infant?"  asked  the  Pro- 
fessor. 

"  He  was  that  fond  of  Gracie,  the  infant's  nurse, 
and  she  would  not  budge  without  the  child ;  and 
so  he  ran  off  with  his  own  little  daughter  as  well 
as  Gracie,  who  was  one  of  the  sort  known  as  a 
minx." 

"  Go  on,  Mr.  Redwood.  How  did  you  come  in 
possession  of  Caryl  ?" 

"  I  was  sent  for  by  Mrs.  Leighton.  I  received 
her  message  in  a  roundabout  way,  and  Nance,  my 
wife,  knew  nothing  about  it.  I  found  Miss  Agnes 
— Mrs.  Leighton,  I  mean — in  a  wretchedly  poor 
place,  and  dying,  and  she  made  me  promise  to 
take  Caryl  to  you,  sir,  and  entreat  you  to  bring  him 
up,  and — " 

"And  why  was  this  not  done  ?  Where  have  you 
kept  the  boy  these  three  years,  Mr.  Redwood?"  in- 
quired the  Professor,  with  severity. 

"  I  have  but  a  poor  reason  to  give,  sir.  I  took 
Caryl  home  with  me  after  his  mother  died,  and  I 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  gi 

should  have  brought  him  here  at  once.  I  intended 
bringing  him  to  you  the  next  day,  but  Nance — my 
wife,  that  is — took  a  fancy  to  keep  him  as  a  play- 
mate for  our  own  boy,  who  was  just  Caryl's  age. 
And  I  could  do  nothing  in  those  days  but  yield  to 
her  will — I  was  that  infatuated — and  she  had  it  all 
her  own  way.  As  to  where  Caryl  has  been  the 
last  three  years,  sir,  I  can  only  say :  imagine  the 
worst  place  you  can,  and  then  you  will  only  half 
hit  it.  But  I  have  taken  Caryl  at  last  high  and  dry 
out  of  it,  and  I  have  broken  away  from  it  all — from 
her — from  it — forever.  From  this  out  I  am  no 
longer  a — a  thief,  but — so  help  me — an  honest  man. 
And  here  is  Caryl — if  you  will  take  him,  sir — and 
nothing  remains  but  for  me  to  say  good-bye  to 
him,  and  to  rid  you  of  my  presence."  And  Captain 
Corrie  rose  to  go,  broke  down,  sank  into  his  chair 
again,  and  dropped  his  chin  upon  his  breast.  It  was 
only  for  a  moment.  Rising  again,  and  sweeping  his 
hand  across  his  eyes,  he  asked,  in  a  thick  voice  : 

"  You  will  take  the  boy,  sir  ?" 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Redwood ;  I  wish  to  ask  you  a 
few  questions,"  said  the  Professor,  a  luminous  and 
benignant  smile  breaking  over  his  face,  as  he  mo- 
tioned with  his  hand  to  the  chair  from  which  Cap- 
tain Corrie  had  risen. 

"  Be  assured  on  one  point,"  continued  the  Pro- 
fessor, "  I  will  receive  Caryl  as  I  would  my  own, 
and  do  the  best  I  can  by  him  for  his  dead  mother's 
sake.  But  for  yourself — what  are  your  plans? 
From  your  own  admission  you  have  been  at  war 


p2  BR1NKA  : 

with  civil  and  religious  law,  and,  as  I  conjectured 
from  the  first,  are  far  above,  in  mental  capacity  and 
integral  honesty,  the  life  you  have  been  leading. 
You  are  too  young  a  man  still,  with  the  world  be- 
fore you,  to  let  yourself  drift  back  again  into — are 
you  thirty?" 

"  In  my  thirtieth  year,  sir,"  replied  Captain 
Corrie. 

"Will  you  tell  me  some  of  the  particulars  of  your 
life  since  you  left  General  Forsythe's  ?  I  can  then 
better  judge  from  what  point  Caryl  may  be  threat- 
ened ;  also,  if  there  is  anything  I  can  do  to  assist 
you." 

Captain  Corrie,  in  the  fewest  words  possible,  gave 
the  story  of  his  life  from  his  marriage  with  Nancy, 
including  the  particulars  of  his  flight  from  the  Red 
House  with  me,  and  the  assistance  Mr.  Vaughan 
and  Sam  Bowen  had  rendered  him,  to  all  of  which 
Professor  Wye  listened  with  profound  attention,  re- 
marking that  Sam  Bowen  was  a  fine  fellow.  He 
then  asked  if  it  was  alone  owing  to  the  interposition 
of  Brinka  that  Mr.  Vaughan  invited  us  in  his  car- 
riage. 

"  Entirely,"  replied  Captain  Corrie. 

"  The  little  Countess  bids  fair  to  be  a  very  charm- 
ing woman,  like  her  mother,  whom  she  resembles," 
said  the  Professor;  and  then  he  asked  :  "  Has  Nancy 
— Mrs.  Redwood — any  idea  of  where  you  have 
brought  Caryl  ?" 

"  None  whatever,  sir  ;  that  much  I  kept  from  her. 
You  left  Boston  so  many  years  ago,  and  your  name 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  93 

even  has  never  been  mentioned  in  connection  with 
General  Forsythe's  family.  Of  so  much  I  am  cer- 
tain. It  only  remains  for  me  to  keep  out  of  her 
way,  and  Caryl  will  be  safe." 

"  And  what  are  your  plans,  Mr.  Redwood  ?" 

"  I  start  for  California  to-night  in  a  schooner 
bound  direct  for  San  Francisco,  with  a  cargo  of 
spool-silk  and  cotton  goods,  going  around  Cape 
Horn.  It  is  a  rare  chance.  My  passage  is  engaged 
under  the  name  of  Ford.  Sam  Bowen  arranged  it 
all,  and  will  see  me  on  board." 

"  Have  you  means  to  do  this,  Mr.  Redwood  ? 
Will  you  permit  me  to  assist  you  ?  I  am  much  in- 
terested in  you,  and  can  well  afford  it.  I  am  not, 
as  you  may  remember,  in  the  least  dependent  upon 
my  school." 

"  I  know,  sir,"  replied  Captain  Corrie,  in  a  thick- 
ened voice,  "  but  I  have,  I  think,  sufficient  for  my 
purpose." 

"  Will  you  promise  to  apply  to  me  should  your 
means  fail  you  before  you  get  in  a  way  to  help  your- 
self in  some  honest  calling  ?" 

"  I  promise  you  I  will,  Professor  Wye.  Your 
goodness  is — almost  more  than  I  can  bear.  For, 
you  know,  I  am  really  nothing,  nothing  but  an  out- 
cast, and  I  deserve  no  such  consideration  as  you 
show  me." 

"  We  do  not  always  get  what  we  merit,  either  of 
good  or  bad,  Mr.  Redwood,"  returned  the  Profes- 
sor, gravely, 

"  And  now  I  can  go,  sir  ?"     And  as  Captain  Cor- 


24  BRINKA : 

rie  rose  again  to  go,  the  solemn  waiter  in  rusty 
black,  whom  the  Professor  called  Miles,  entered  the 
room,  handing  the  Professor  a  card  on  a  silver 
salver. 

"  I  will  return  in  a  few  moments,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor, leaving  the  room  with  the  waiter. 

When  we  were  alone  Captain  Corrie  came  over 
to  me  and  lifted  me  in  his  arms. 

"  Caryl,"  said  he,  "  be  a  good  boy — but  you  will 
always  be  that.  Never  mention  the  Red  House  or 
any  one  in  it  to  any  one.  You  will  be  safe  here. 
Professor  Wye  will  stand  your  friend  through  thick 
and  thin.  He  is  a  man  that  no  thick  or  no  thin 
could  ever  budge  a  hair's  breadth  from  a  settled 
purpose,  and  his  settled  purpose  will  be  to  protect 
you.  And  for  more  reasons  than  one.  Professor 
Wye  might  have  been  your  father,  Caryl,  if  young 
Leighton  had  not  come  and  swept  all  before  him. 
The  General  favored  Professor  Wye,  and  so  did 
Miss  Agnes,  your  mother,  although  it  had  not 
come  to  an  engagement.  For  Professor  Wye  is  not 
as  old  as  he  looks.  He  was  only  fifteen  years  older 
than  your  mother,  and  his  hair  has  grown  white 
through  grief  at  losing  her.  She,  your  mother, 
would  have  been  twenty-six  years  old  if  she  had 
lived,  and  the  Professor  is  forty-one.  I  tell  you 
this,  Caryl,  because  you  are  wiser  than  your  years, 
and  ought  to  know  it." 

Captain  Corrie  set  me  down,  and  was  handing  me 
a  small  gold  case  with  a  miniature  on  either  side  as 
the  Professor  re-entered  the  room. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  gc 

"  The  likeness  of  your  mother  and  father,  Caryl. 
Your  mother  saved  it  from  all  the  abounding  past 
for  you."  And  Captain  Corrie  added :  "  And,  now, 
Professor  Wye,  thanking  you  again,  I  can  go,  sir  ?" 

"  You  feel  safe  in  crossing  the  ferry  ?"  asked  the 
Professor. 

"  I  go  as  I  came,  with  Sam  Bowen  in  the  covered 
wagon,"  replied  Captain  Corrie.  "  I  remain  with 
Mortimer  Binns  till  night,  and  then  go  aboard  the 
schooner,  as  I  said.  I  am  all  prepared." 

"  I  can  only  say,  God  speed  you,  Mr.  Redwood. 
I  shall  rely  on  your  promise,  that  in  case  you  are 
in  any  extremity  you  will  apply  to  me." 

Thanking  the  Professor  still  again,  in  a  thickened 
voice,  Captain  Corrie  turned  to  me,  and  once  more 
lifted  me  in  his  strong  arms,  holding  me  on  a  level 
with  his  face  at  arm's  length  for  a  moment,  looking 
into  my  eyes.  And  then,  drawing  me  closely  up  to 
him  for  an  instant,  he  set  me  down  without  saying 
a  word,  and  left  the  room. 

He  went,  and  I,  the  loneliest  little  mortal  in  the 
world,  was  shedding  hot,  silent  tears  for  his  de- 
parture, and  struggling  hard  to  keep  them  back. 


BRINKA  : 


X. 

THE   LIONS    OF    ELM    RIDGE. 

r  I  "*HE  Professor  took  me  on  his  knee  and  told 

-I-  me  some  interesting  anecdotes,  so  diverting 
that  I  was  laughing  in  the  midst  of  my  tears  when 
a  knock  came  at  the  door,  and  through  the  fog  of 
my  misty  eyes  I  saw  enter  a  boy,  two  or  three  years 
older  than  myself,  with  a  face  like  a  gleam  of  sun- 
shine, in  a  setting  of  loose,  gold  curls,  bearing  in 
his  hands  an  immense  fiddle. 

"  I  have  brought  my  cello,  Professor ;  am  I  on 
time  ?"  asked  the  yellow-haired  boy,  in  a  voice  with 
a  fresh,  musical  ring  that  was  very  attractive. 

"  Come  here,  Hildreth,"  said  the  Professor,  his 
fine  face  lighting  up  with  pleasure.  "  Let  me  make 
you  acquainted  with  our  new  pupil." 

And  telling  Hildreth — whose  name  I  found  was 
Roy — to  leave  his  cello,  that  it  could  wait  till  even- 
ing, he  bade  him  take  me  around  and  show  me  all 
the  lions  of  Elm  Ridge. 

"  Lions !"  I  exclaimed.  "  Have  you  got  lions 
here  ?" 

"  Oh !  I  say,"  returned  Roy,  looking  at  me  with 
fun-loving  eyes  ;  "  Professor  Wye  means  the  boys — 
our  fellows,  you  know — and  the  ponies  and  pea- 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  97 

cocks  and  the  gymnasium  and  Guinea-pigs  and 
white  mice  and  things.  Do  you  like  pigeons, 
Caryl  ?  I've  got  some  pouters  and  carriers  back 
of  the  barn- as  tame  as  tame.  And  I've  got  a  box 
of  nuts  and  oranges  and  things,  sent  to  me  from 
Louisiana — the  expressman  just  brought  it — and 
we  can  open  it  together,  if  you  like.  Do  you  love 
music?" 

Which  of  the  suggestions  to  reply  to  I  scarcely 
knew,  so  I  said  I  liked  pigeons  and  nuts  and 
oranges  and  music  better  than  anything  in  the 
world. 

This  set  Roy  Hildreth  off  again ;  and  the  Pro- 
fessor, who  had  taken  up  a  book,  was  regarding  us 
from  over  the  top  of  it  with  a  look  of  silent  amuse- 
ment. 

"There,  boys,"  said  he,  "you  had  better  go  now," 
and  he  resumed  his  book. 

"  You'll  feel  at  home  here  in  no  time,"  Roy  Hil- 
dreth assured  me  when  we  were  out-of-doors.  "  I'll 
show  you  the  gymnasium  and  my  pony ;  he's  a 
beauty;  you  can  ride  him.  And  I'll  show  you  my 
white  Guinea-pigs  and  the  peacocks.  Ben's  got  two 
magnificent  ones.  I  call  them  Ben's,  but  they're  the 
Professor's,  you  know.  Ben's  the  gardener,  and 
takes  care  of  them,  and  of  the  puppies  and  turkeys 
and  ducks  and  hens  and  things.  I'll  show  you  them 
all,  and  I'll  show  you  our  boys.  They've  all  got 
nicknames,  every  one  of  them." 

"What  the  Guinea-pigs  and  pony  and  puppies 
and  peacocks  and  hens  ?"  I  asked,  much  interested. 


98 


BRINK'A  : 


"  No,  no,  the  boys.  Oh !  they  go  cackling  and 
gobbling  and  quacking  and  grunting  around  like — " 

"  What,  the  boys  ?"  I  asked,  in  amazement. 

"  No,  no,  the  turkeys  and  hens  and  Guinea-pigs 
and  things,"  replied  Roy,  laughing.  "  There're  our 
boys  now  over  there  on  the  ball-ground,  hard  at  it. 
They  call  me  Yellow  Jacket,  because  my  uncle  out 
there  in  Arizona  owns  a  gold  mine,  and  sends  me 
lots  of  gold  pieces  for  spending-money  ;  and  because 
I  can  say  spicy  things  back  that  sting  when  our 
boys  chaff  me." 

"  My !"  said  I,  "  you  don't  look  like  that." 

"  You  see  that  tall  boy  ?"  asked  Roy. 

"  Is  he  one  of  the  lions?"  I  inquired. 

"  You'll  think  so  when  you  hear  him  roar.  He's 
a  terror!"  returned  Hildreth.  "  He's  the  Professor's 
nephew,  you  know." 

"  What's  his  name  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh  !  his  name's  Clavel  Repsneider ;  but  we  call 
him  Ripsnorter  for  short.  His  mother  is  Mrs. 
Repsneider,  and  she's  lovely ;  she's  the  Professor's 
own  sister,  and  she  presides  here,  as  they  say  at  the 
White  House.  Ripsnorter  there  takes  after  his 
father,  who  was  another  terror.  He  thought  one 
terror  was  enough  in  a  family,  and  so  he  died. 
You  see  that  thin  boy  with  the  black  curly  hair, 
who  just  batted  the  ball  out  into  the  left  field? 
Well,  he's  a  brick.  His  name's  Harding  Baker, 
and  he's  nicknamed  Hard  Bake.  And  that  broad- 
shouldered  fellow  leaning  up  against  that  great  elm 
is  Punkin  Head.  His  right  name's  Paron  Hedrick." 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  gg 

We  arrived  on  the  ball-ground  just  as  the  game 
was  finished,  and  the  players  were  in  a  lively  con- 
troversy over  a  fly  of  Hedrick's. 

"  Hello,  Roy  !"  shouted  the  boy  they  called  Hard 
Bake,  "  who've  you  got  there — a  new  boy  ?" 

"  Anybody  can  see  he  isn't  a  very  old  one,"  ex- 
claimed Hedrick,  the  short,  thick-set  boy. 

"  Immense  for  Punkin  Head !"  declared  Hard 
Bake. 

"  I  say,  fellows,  can't  you  be  a  little  civil  ?  He's 
one  of  us  now  you  know ;  his  name's  Caryl  Leigh- 
ton,  and  I'm  his  friend,"  said  Hildreth. 

"  And  so  am  I,"  returned  Hard  Bake,  coming  for- 
ward and  shaking  my  hand. 

"  And  I,"  echoed  Hedrick,  heartily,  also  shaking 
my  hand. 

"  And  I,  and  I,  and  I,"  affirmed  a  number  of  the 
boys,  cordially  offering  me  their  hands  in  turn. 

"  Quite  an  ovation,"  sneered  Clavel  Repsneider, 
bestowing  on  me  a  supercilious  stare.  "  Mr.  Caryl 
Leighton  must  feel  highly  flattered,  'pon  my  honor." 

"  I  say,  Ripsnorter,  pawn  something  you  can 
spare  better,"  retorted  Roy  Hildreth,  and  there  was 
a  general  laugh. 

"  What  in  thunder  does  my  uncle  mean  by  tak- 
ing in  such  an  infant  as  that  ?  I  wonder  if  his  wet 
nurse  came  with  him  ?"  exclaimed  Clavel  Repsnei- 
der, with  an  unpleasant  laugh,  his  face  flaming  from 
Hildreth's  jibe. 

"  Our  Professor  probably  thought  that  little 
Leighton  would  imbibe  enough  of  the  milk  of  hu- 


100  BRINKA: 

man  kindness  from  you,  Ripsnorter,"  returned  Hil- 
dreth,  a  quizzical  light  dancing  in  his  eyes. 

"Yellow  Jacket  has  you  every  time,  old  Rip- 
snorter  ;  that  stung,"  exclaimed  Hedrick,  laughing 
vociferously. 

Repsneider  turned  with  a  contemptuous  snort 
and  walked  off  stiffly  toward  the  house.  Two  or 
three  of  the  older  boys,  with  books  in  their  hands, 
followed  on  slowly  after  him,  studying  as  they  went. 

"  Look  here,  fellows,  haven't  you  noticed  that 
when  Ripsnorter  gets  the  worst  of  the  argument  he 
always — moves  on  ?"  asked  Baker,  laughing.  » 

"  That's  because,  not  having  sufficient  wit  or  wis- 
dom to  make  an  apt  repartee,  he  is  forced  to  fall 
back  on  dignity,"  answered  Hedrick,  with  an  oratori- 
cal flourish  of  his  right  hand. 

"  Come,  Caryl,"  urged  Roy,  "  you've  heard  the 
lions  roar,  let's  go  and  see  the  pony  and  the — " 

"  Look  here,  little  Leighton,"  cried  Hard  Bake, 
as  Roy  and  I  started  off,  "  if  Ripsnorter  offers  you 
any  more — milk,  there'll  some  one  of  us  be  on  hand 
to  upset  his  milk-pail  for  him." 

"  I  say,  fellows,"  said  Roy,  looking  back,  "  you 
won't  forget  ?  You'd  better  all  of  you  come  along 
now.  Some  one's  got  to  help  me  open  the  box  ;  it's 
as  big  as  all  out-of-doors,  and  holds  no  end  of 
oranges  and  nuts  and  things." 

"  Don't  lose  any  flesh  worrying  about  that,"  cried 
Harding  Baker.  "  Those  oranges  will  disappear 
about  as  suddenly  as  Miss  Who's-this  does  when 
What-do-call-him,  the  conjuror,  throws  the  gauze 


AN  AMERICA  N  CO  UNTESS.  j  o  x 

over  her  head  and  nightly  electrifies  his  audiences 
when  they  find  she  is  non  est." 

"  Save  your  lungs,  Hard  Bake,  you'll  want  them 
when  you're  ready  to  go  stumping  the  country,"  ex- 
claimed Roy,  back.  "  But,  I  say,  fellows,  how  he 
does  that  trick  passes  me,"  he  asserted,  waiting  for 
the  others  to  join  us. 

"  The  old  Nick  helps  him,  that's  how,"  laughed 
Hard  Bake.  "  It's  his  little  game." 

"  No  old  Nick  about  it.  It's  only  a  trick.  Heller 
says  so  himself,"  asserted  Paron  Hedrick,  as  we 
moved  on  in  a  crowd,  all  talking  at  once,  advancing 
theories  as  to  the  way  Heller  performed  his  tricks. 

After  we  had  eaten  heartily  of  the  fruit  and  nuts, 
over  which  the  boys  made  many  jokes,  Roy  Hil- 
dreth  proposed  that  I  should  go  with  him  to  see 
Mrs.  Blythe  and  take  her  some  oranges. 

"  She's  our  housekeeper,  you  know,"  he  explained. 
"  She  looks  after  the  housemaids  and  things,  and 
she's  no  end  of  a  lion." 

"  I  hope  she's  not  as  cross  as — "  I  was  going  to 
say  Nancy  Redwood,  but  I  checked  myself  in 
time. 

"  Cross  !  She  couldn't  say  a  cross  word  to  save 
her  life;  she's  as  mild  as  May,"  replied  Roy.  "She's 
awful  jolly  ;  you'll  see.  She  comes  from  away  down 
East,  up  there  in  Maine,  and  she's  worth  her  weight 
in  gold."  And  having  entered  the  house,  Hildreth 
proceeded  to  the  south  wing  and  knocked  at  a  door 
on  the  ground  floor,  whereat  a  cheery  voice  bade  us: 
"  Come  in." 


I02  BRINKA: 

A  trig,  chubby,  round-about  little  woman  in  the 
neatest  possible  in-door  gown  welcomed  us  smil- 
ingly, looking  out  at  us  from  a  pair  of  round  eyes 
like  a  bird's,  that  seemed  always  on  the  alert.  Her 
round,  chubby  face,  full  of  dimples,  reminded  one, 
in  the  setting  of  her  soft,  light  brown  hair  and  the 
fluffy  lace  of  her  spotless  white  cap  (roundabout 
also,  like  the  caps  French  nursemaids  wear),  of  the 
good-humored  face  of  the  full  moon  beaming  reful- 
gent from  a  halo  of  fleecy,  white  summer  clouds. 

"  I  was  sutten  you  wouldn't  forgit  the  old  lady, 
Roy ;  you  never  do,"  she  exclaimed,  with  evident 
delight,  as  she  came  toward  us  with  short,  agile 
steps,  again  like  a  bird,  and  took  the  fruit  from  his 
hands.  "  Not  that  I  set  such  a  store  on  oranges 
nuther,  for  I  care  a  heap  sight  more  to  know  you're 
so  proper  nice  to  an  old  body  like  me."  And  she 
offered  us  chairs. 

"  Old  !  There  you  go  again  !"  remonstrated  Roy, 
with  a  laugh.  "  What  makes  you  always  call  your- 
self old  ?  Why,  Mrs.  Repsneider  herself  told  me 
you  were  just  her  age,  and  she's  only  thirty-nine — 
just  two  years  younger  than  our  Professor,  you 
know." 

"  I  d'  know,  but  it'll  do  for  Clavel's  mother  to  be 
young,  but  for  me  it's  a  heap  more  dignified  to  be 
aged,  you  see,  Roy,"  replied  Mrs.  Blythe,  cheerily. 

"  No,  I  don't  see — do  you,  Caryl  ?" 

"  And  all  this  time  I  d'  know  as  I've  said  a  word 
to  Caryl,  our  new  boy.  The  Professor's  ben  a-tellin' 
me  about  you,  and  I'm  proper  glad  to  have  you 


AN  A  ME  RICA  N  CO  UNTESS.  1 03 

here  amongst  us,"  and  Mrs.  Blythe  looked  at  me 
with  her  head  on  one  side,  her  blue  eyes  very  round, 
and  all  the  chubby  dimples  in  her  face  in  full  play ; 
and  then,  as  though  suddenly  recalling  her  duty  as 
hostess,  she  moved  briskly  over  to  a  buffet  and  took 
out  and  set  before  us  tempting  saucers  of  strawber- 
ries and  cream,  with  some  crullers  that  she  declared 
had  been  made  by  her  own  hands. 

"  And  I've  not  ben  forgetful  of  you,  my  dear  boy  " 
— (she  was  speaking  now  to  Roy) — "  I  made  this 
a-purpose  for  you  out  of  the  very  best  saddler's  silk. 
See,  it's  a  guard-chain  for  your  watch." 

"  You're  my  guard-chain-angel,"  exclaimed  Roy, 
bowing  whimsically.  "  It's  awful  jolly !  I  hate  gold 
chains."  And  he  held  it  up  admiringly,  and  then 
proceeded  to  attach  it  to  his  watch. 

"  Guard-chain-angel !  What  next  ?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Blythe,  laughing  delightedly.  "  I  never  see 
such  a  boy.  I'm  a  real  stupid  about  conundrums 
and  the  like,  but  I  can  see  straight  through  the 
double-entry  of  that  as  easy  as — " 

"Oh!  I  say,  Mrs.  Blythe — it's  French,  you  know. 
It's  double  entente"  corrected  Roy,  with  his  mouth 
full  of  strawberries.  "  Bervault  would  go  wild  to 
hear  that." 

"  I  d'  know  's  I  was  ever  very  much  at  pernounc- 
in',"  returned  Mrs.  Blythe,  with  a  chubby  laugh ; 
"  but  I  said  wuss  than  that  to  Bervault  himself  the 
other  day — I  said  table-dee-hooty  !" 

"  What  did  Bervault  do  ?"  asked  Hildreth,  laugh- 
ing. 


104 


BRINK  A  .• 


"  He  turned  as  white  as  a  piller-case,  and  then 
very  politely  told  me  the  right  way.  I  d'  know  but 
he's  the  most  fast-hejus  man  I  ever  see.  He  got  me 
to  say  it  over  and  over,  jest  as  though  I  was  in 
school — table  d"h6te,  table  d7i6fe." 

"  Who's  Bervault?"  I  asked,  balancing  the  last  of 
my  strawberries  in  my  spoon. 

"  He's  French,  you  know.  He's  our  teacher  of 
modern  languages,"  replied  Roy,  tilting  the  last  of 
his  strawberries  into  his  mouth. 

"  And  he's  so  fast-hejus  and  so  wiry,  always  a-hop- 
pin"  about,  and  never  preservin'  the  happy  pre- 
medium.  But  he's  monstrous  polite."  And  then 
Mrs.  Blythe  asked  me  how  I  liked  the  boys. 

"  Oh,  I  like  them  all — that  is,  all  but  one,"  I  an- 
swered. 

"And  that  one's  Ripsnorter!"  exclaimed  Roy, 
and  he  related  what  had  transpired  on  the  ball- 
ground. 

"  If  Clavel  don't  look  out  he'll  be  just  as  hateful  as 
his  father,"  said  Mrs.  Blythe,  in  chubby  indignation 
as  she  hopped  up  and  roly-polyed  over  to  the  buffet 
again  for  more  berries  and  cream,  which  we  declined. 
"  His  father  come  nigh  a-killin'  his  own  wife  with 
his  rough  ways,  and  I  am  sutten  he  would  ef  he 
hadn't  a  up  and  died  himself.  She  was  that  pestered 
with  the  globus  hippopotamus  in  her  throat  (that's 
what  the  doctor  called  it),  that  she  grew  so  thin  the 
bicycles  and  forceps  of  her  arms  were  like  while 
paper,  and  her  face  was  a  sight  to  behold.  But  a 
judgment  come  upon  him.  His  bronchial  tubes  got 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  IC>5 

the  start  on  him,  and  they  kep'  on  till  they  extended 
way  down  inter  his  lungs.  And  that's  what  he  died 
on.  It's  very  dangerous  to  let  the  bronchial  tubes 
git  started  onct." 

"  Why,  do  they  grow  like  onions  ?"  asked  Roy. 

"  I've  allers  ben  more  or  less  amongst  the  M.  D.s, 
and  I  know  a  heap  consarnin'  diseases  ;  and  they  all 
on  um  will  tell  you  that  it's  a  great  deal  better  not 
to  let  your  bronchial  tubes  git  started  onct,"  indi- 
rectly replied  Mrs.  Blythe,  complacently  smoothing 
an  imaginary  crease  from  her  snow-white  apron  with 
her  plump  hand. 

"  And  then,  after  Gavel's  father  died,"  she  re- 
commenced, with  such  cheerful,  chubby  satisfaction 
in  her  dismal,  retrospective  narration  that  it  sounded 
more  as  though  she  were  telling  of  dancing  and 
weddings — "  after  he  fairly  died,  Gavel's  mother 
was  took  down  and  come  near  dyin'  herself  of  the 
Pcrry-come-meet-us  from  inflammation  of  the  semi- 
colon, the  doctors  said.  It  was  owin'  to  extra- 
seated  blood  that  wouldn't  circulate.  You  see  it's 
ben  a  great  advantage  to  me  bein'  amongst  so  much 
larnin' ;  and  the  Perry-come-meet-us  een-a-most 
oilers  ends  in  death.  But  she  got  well,  for  I  helped 
miss  her  myself." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  let's  let  Gavel  and  that  drop ;  'tisn't 
very  jolly,  you  know,  and  it's  time  we  went.  Come, 
Caryl,  we'll  have  to  go !"  exclaimed  Hildreth,  start- 
ing to  his  feet. 

"  I'm  proper  glad  to  have  Caryl  here  amongst 
us,"  returned  Mrs.  Blythe,  beaming  her  satisfaction 


I06  BRINKA: 

on  me  from  her  round  blue  eyes  as  she  laid  a 
plump  hand  softly  on  my  shoulder.  "  We  shall  all 
admire  to  have  you  here.  The  Professor's  a  man 
in  a  hundred  thousand,  never  in  no  extreme.  He 
oilers  preserves  the  happy  pre-medium.  It's  a  great 
thing  to  arrive  at  the  happy  pre-medium,  when  most 
folks,  if  they  git  any  larnin',  go  off  into  hobbies  so. 
And  the  Professor's  oilers  kind  and  just,  and  never 
on  no  occasion  loses  his  equal-Abraham  of  temper. 
He's  a  wonderful  man,  I  tell  you." 

"  You  can't  say  too  much  in  praise  of  our  Pro- 
fessor. He's  awful  jolly,"  asserted  Hildreth,  as, 
clapping  his  cap  on  his  head,  he  went,  I  following. 

That  evening,  after  supper,  according  to  appoint- 
ment, Roy,  with  his  cello,  accompanied  the  Pro- 
fessor on  the  great  organ  in  the  chapel. 

It  was  no  recognizable  melody  they  played  ;  but, 
stranger  as  I  had  been  to  all  refining  influences,  I 
listened  to  the  harmonious  sounds  in  rapt  attention. 
And  the  Professor,  quite  as  much  amused  as  grati- 
fied with  the  almost  breathless  interest  I  had  mani- 
fested in  what  I  instinctively  knew  was  a  finely 
executed  musical  master-piece,  declared,  as  he  softly 
stroked  my  hair,  that  he  should  have  to  make  a 
musician  of  me,  Roy  being  already  nothing  less 
than  a  musical  prodigy. 

Upon  the  strength  of  that,  I  drew  from  my  pocket 
the  miniature  case  Captain  Corrie  had  given  me,  and 
said  in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm,  pointing  to  the  like- 
ness of  my  motner,  that  she  looked  as  though  she 
could  make  music  like  that. 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS. 

Professor  Wye  took  the  proffered  case  and  ex- 
amined both  sides  minutely  and  silently,  then 
handed  it  to  Roy  Hildreth,  saying:  "Caryl's  mother 
and  father." 

"  Caryl  is  the  image  of  his  mother,  but  does  not 
look  one  whit  like  his  father.  That  medallion  over 
your  desk,  Professor  Wye,  looks  more  like  his 
father." 

The  medallion  Hildreth  alluded  to  I  afterward 
learned  was  a  choice  engraving  from  a  famous  alto- 
relievo  of  the  Medusa  by  an  antique  sculptor. 

"  A  similarity  of  countenance  does  not  necessarily 
imply  a  similarity  of  character,  though  in  many 
cases  it  certainly  does,"  with  which  ambiguous 
epigram  the  Professor  dismissed  us  for  the  night, 
saying  I  was  to  sleep  in  a  cot  in  his  own  room, 
which  Mrs.  Blythe  had  been  requested  to  see  pre- 
pared. 


BRINKA: 


XI. 
THE  OSCULATION   OF   CURVES. 

AS  the  months  went  on  (it  being  now  December), 
the  Professor  grew  manifestly  more  and  more 
fond  of  me;  and  he  had  me  with  him  in  the  garden, 
in  his  drives,  and  always  in  the  hours  he  devoted  to 
his  music,  which  was  his  one  untiring,  recreation. 
To  such  of  his  pupils  as  evinced,  like  Roy  Hildreth, 
an  uncommon  gift  for  music,  his  great  pleasure  was 
to  personally  impart  a  knowledge  of  its  profoundest 
meanings.  It  was  the  boast  among  our  boys  that 
he  was  acquainted  with  the  whole  arcana  of  human 
knowledge.  And  most  assiduously  did  they  labor, 
backed  by  profoundest  authority,  to  trip  him  up, 
only  to  acknowledge  themselves  beaten  by  their  own 
weapons. 

One  of  the  senior  boys  had  just  experienced  a 
defeat  upon  a  question  at  which  he  had  been  labor- 
ing for  a  week. 

"  Poor  Whipple !  He  was  awfully  cut  up  !"  ex- 
claimed Harding,  who,  with  a  knot  of  our  boys,  was 
discussing  him  out  on  the  south  veranda,  that  was 
inclosed  in  glass  for  the  winter. 

"  The  cheek  of  him  !  He  was  so  sure  of  flooring 
the  Professor,"  declared  Hedrick. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


109 


"  My  !  But  he  was  left  the  worst  kind,"  affirmed 
Roy  Hildreth.  "  I  say,  fellows,  he's  got  enough  of 
the  osculation  of  curves  for  one  while." 

Mrs.  Ely  the,  who  had  entered  the  veranda  by 
the  glass  door  on  her  way  from  the  green-house, 
with  her  apron  full  of  flowers,  stopped  to  listen,  as- 
serting, with  a  cheerful,  crowing  laugh,  that  she 
didn't  "  know  nothing  of  curves  "  (wherein  she  was  at 
fault,  being  herself  composed  exclusively  of  curves). 
"  But,"  said  she,  as  she  commenced  dexterously  ar- 
ranging the  fragrant  blossoms  into  a  bouquet,  "  I've 
oilers  noticed  that  one  has  to  git  up  pooty  airly  to 
git  ahead  of  our  Professor.  And  as  fur  Oscar 
Whipple,  he  had  to  cry  P.  Cavey  at  onct." 

"  Yes,  he  P.  Caved  at  discretion,"  assented  Roy 
Hildreth,  burying  his  face  down  in  the  heliotrope 
and  mignonette,  and  taking  a  long  whiff  "  All 
the  Professor  had  to  do  was  to  make  ten  marks  on 
the  blackboard,  and  he  knocked  Whipple's  new- 
fangled theory  into  pi." 

"  Oh  !  he's  so  academic  and  egotistical,  and  takes 
such  Icarian  flights,"  declaimed  Hedrick,  "  that  you 
can  expect  any  amount  of  scientific  absurdity  from 
him  ;  and  to  see  him  come  down  like  a  stick,  with 
the  wax  all  melted  off  his  wings,  in  his  efforts  to  get 
too  near  the  sun — with  his  differential  calculuses 
and  his  osculation  of  curves  !" 

"  Dear  me !  bow  the  poor  boy's  left  ear  must 
burn !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Blythe,  in  chubby  sympathy, 
deftly  working  away  at  her  flowers.  "  But  it  all 
comes  from  his  not  knowing  when  to  stop ;  he 


IIO  BRINKA: 

hasn't  got  to  the  happy  pre-medium  yet,  you  see. 
There's  very  few  on  us  in  this  world  who  has  ar- 
rived at  the  happy  pre-medium,  all  on  us  being  too 
much  one  way  or  t'other."  And  Mrs.  Blythe, 
selecting  some  pretty  buds  for  each  of  us,  for  button- 
hole adornment,  passed  on  into  the  house. 

"  Come,  boys,  with  our  boutonniers,  there's  the  bell 
for  the  French  class.  If  we're  not  there  on  time 
Bervault  will  flay  us  alive ;  for  there's  no  happy  pre- 
medium  about  him."  And  as  Roy  Hildreth  ran  to 
the  class-rooms,  followed  by  the  rest  of  the  boys, 
Dick  drove  around  with  the  basket-sleigh,  and  the 
Professor,  from  his  study  window,  called  to  me  to 
go  and  jump  into  the  sleigh  if  I  wished  to  take  a 
drive  with  him. 

The  day  was  bright,  and  for  the  last  of  Decem- 
ber very  mild,  although  the  ground  was  covered 
with  snow.  We  drove  down  to  the  ferry,  and  cross- 
ing over  to  New  London,  stopped,  to  my  intense 
astonishment,  at  the  stables  of  Mort  Binns,  who, 
cynical  and  broken-hearted  as  ever,  escorted  us  in 
ominous  silence  up  into  his  parlor  over  the  stables. 
And  having  installed  Professor  Wye  in  the  great 
state  arm-chair  of  the  room  with  all  the  solemnity 
due  to  a  funeral  occasion  or  the  initiation  into  some 
mystical  rites,  he  carefully  closed  the  door,  and  as- 
sured us  in  a  mysteriously  sepulchral  voice  that  he 
was  Corrie  Redwood's  and  my  friend,  and  that  no 
amount  of  torture  would  ever  wring  from  him  one 
word  that  could  injure  either  of  us. 

With  this  tragic  exordium,  which   might  have 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  1 1  r 

startled  any  one  less  capable  of  comprehending  situ- 
ations and  people,  than  Professor  Wye,  he  opened 
the  door  to  an  inner  room  and  hoarsely  whispered, 
"Come  forth!" 

It  was  Sam  Bowen,  the  barber,  who  came  forth, 
and  I  sprang  toward  him  in  the  greatest  delight. 

Returning  my  greeting  in  his  mild,  affectionate 
way,  he  begged  the  Professor  to  excuse  the  liberty 
he  had  taken  in  writing  and  asking  him  to  come  to 
Mr.  Binns'  place,  as  he  had  heard  from  Corrie  Red- 
wood, who  had  enjoined  upon  him  to  keep  away 
from  the  school,  for  fear  of  compromising  me. 

The  Professor,  assuring  Sam  Bowen  that  it  was  a 
wise  precaution,  as  no  one  at  the  school  knew  any- 
thing about  the  Red  House,  and  it  was  better  that 
they  should  not,  asked  if  the  news  from  Mr.  Red- 
wood were  good. 

"  He  had  favorable  winds,  and  is  in  San  Francis- 
co, and  has  already  a  first-rate  situation  in  the  stable 
of  a  hotel.  I  have  also  another  bit  of  news  for 
Caryl,"  continued  Sam,  taking  the  chair  Mort  Binns 
offered  him.  "  I  was  in  Boston  yesterday  on  some 
business,  and  every  one  was  talking  of  the  Arm- 
strong burglary  and  attempted  murder.  The  burg- 
lars were  all  captured,  and  who  should  they  be  but 
the  Red  House  gang,  Nancy  Redwood,  dressed  in 
male  attire,  in  with  them.  They  are  now  in  jail 
awaitino-  their  trial — the  Red  House  being  all 

o 

broken  up.  Corrie  Redwood  is  in  no  wise  impli- 
cated. In  fact,  the  late  charge  against  him  has 
been  withdrawn  for  lack  of  any  one  to  prosecute — 


!  !  2  BRINKA  : 

it  being  made  by  his  wife,  and  the  reward  for  his 
apprehension  being  offered  by  her.  He  is  now 
quite  safe  if  he  keeps  away  (and  he  will),  though 
his  danger  six  months  ago  was — im — mense" 

"While  he  was  escaping,  yes,"  assented  the  Pro- 
fessor. 

"  Some  of  the  fellows,"  continued  Sam,  "  had  cut 
loose  from  the  Red  House  just  after  Corrie  left,  and 
so  they  were  not  implicated  in  the  robbery  either ; 
and—" 

"  Oh !"  I  exclaimed,  "  I  wish  I  knew  who  they 
were  that  cut  loose." 

"One  was  called  Charming  Charlie,  and  one — " 

"  Charming  Charlie !"  I  cried,  interrupting  Sam 
again.  "  I  am  glad  he  is  out  of  it,  any  way,  and  I 
hope  he'll  keep  out  of  it.  He  was  the  best  of  them 
all ;  and  he  was  good  to  me;  and  he  didn't  care  thai 
for  Nance  ;  and  he  plays  beautifully  on  the  flute.  He 
played  almost  all  the  time  on  the  flute,  and  it  was 
the  only  thing  I  liked  there — and  I  like  him." 

I  was  going  on  to  enumerate  more  points  in  his 
favor,  but  as  the  Professor  was  smiling  and  Sam 
Bowen  was  laughing  outright  and  Mort  Binns  was 
emitting  a  series  of  cachinnations — melancholy 
choking  sounds  in  his  throat  intended  for  laughter 
— I  stopped  short,  and,  laughing  myself,  asked  who 
else  had  cut  loose. 

"  A  chap  they  called  Zebra,"  replied  Sam. 

"  If  it  hadn't  been  for  Zebra  and  Charming  Char- 
lie I'd  have  been  sent  to  a  worse  place  than  the  Red 
House  even,  where  Captain  Corrie  never  would 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  j  1 3 

have  found  me,"  said  I,  with  a  shudder  at  the  recol- 
lection of  the  round-shouldered  man  with  the  wicked 
old  face.  "  And  I  never  would  have  got  out  of  it — 
I  know  I  never  would.  They  all  said  so." 

"  Every  deep  has  a  lower  deep,  we  are  told.  But 
where  was  this  worse  place  than  the  Red  House, 
Caryl,  of  which  you  speak  ?"  asked  the  Professor. 

I  related  Nancy  Redwood's  scheme  to  dispose  of 
me  to  the  round-shouldered  man,  omitting  no  detail, 
so  vividly  graven  on  my  memory  was  it  all,  and  I 
impressed  my  audience  visibly. 

"  You  had  a  narrow  escape,  indeed,  my  poor 
boy,"  said  the  Professor. 

"  It  was  simply  im — mensef"  asserted  Sam  Bowen, 
drawing  a  long  breath.  "  I.  wish  I  could  come 
across  that  Charming  Charlie  of  yours,  Caryl.  He's 
a  hero  ;  and  I'd — I'd  shave  him  free  of  charge,  if  I 
couldn't  do  anything  else  for  him,  and  cut  his  hair 
into  the  bargain,"  added  the  little  barber,  lapsing 
into  a  quiet  little  laugh. 

"  Women  don't  always  get  their  own  way ;  if 
they  did,  the  world  would  have  gone  to  the  bad 
long  ago ;  and  it's  bad  enough  as  it  is,"  declared 
Mort  Binns,  with  dramatic  bitterness. 

"  Oh !  you're  a  misogynist,  Mort ;  you  think 
4  they're  all  like  Susan  Jane,'  "  said  Sam,  with 
another  pleasant  little  laugh.  "  But  Professor  Wye 
didn't  come  here  to  listen  to  our  opinions  of 
women.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,  sir,"  contin- 
ued Sam,  addressing  the  Professor,  "  except  that 
Ranee  Noney  was  the  ringleader  in  that  robbery 


BRINK  A  : 

and  attempted  murder.  The  gentleman,  Mr.  Arm- 
strong, being  much  injured,  may  die  yet  (it's  all  in 
the  papers),  and  in  that  case  it  will,  of  course,  go 
hard  with  them.  But,  anyway,  he  and  Nancy  Red- 
wood won't  come  off  short  of  ten  years." 

"  I  hope  they'll  both  be  hung !"  I  exclaimed,  ve- 
hemently, the  recollection  of  all  they  had  made  me 
suffer,  sharp  upon  me. 

"  Just  so,"  growled  Mort  Binns,  in  a  cavernous 
voice,  "  especially  the  woman." 

Sam  Bowen  gave  a  mild,  beseeching  look  at 
Mort  Binns,  as  though  he  would  like  to  utter  a 
second  protest,  but  said  nothing,  whilst  the  Profes- 
sor, by  whose  side  I  was  standing,  lifted  me  gently 
upon  his  knee. 

"  My  dear  Caryl,"  said  he,  with  an  incomprehen- 
sible smile,  "  I  doubt  if  hanging  people  is  the  cure 
for  existing  evils.  The  condemned  unfortunates, 
especially  of  late,  arouse  such  universal  sympathy, 
that  they  are  lionized  and  petted  by  the  ladies  of 
the  community,  and  are  finally  hung,  not  criminals, 
but  martyrs.  Do  you  wish  for  your  two  enemies 
so  brilliant  a  termination  to  their  wretched  lives  ?" 

"Just  so,"  again  growled  Mort  Binns.  "Such  is 
the  perversity  of  the  female  character." 

Quite  bewildered  by  the  Professor's  words,  and 
more  by  the  smile  deepening  on  his  face,  at  once 
kindly  and  bantering,  as  he  looked  down  into  mine, 
I  pondered  before  I  replied  : 

"  It  isn't  good  of  me  to  wish  any  one  hung,  or 
even  shut  up  inside  of  stone  walls,"  I  answered, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.   ,  U(j 

thinking  I  had  grasped  the  situation.  "  But  what's 
to  be  done  when  they  steal  and  kill  folks,  and  make 
thieves  of  little  boys  ?" 

"  That,  my  dear  Caryl,"  replied  the  Professor, 
very  seriously,  "  is  a  problem  that  is  puzzling,  and 
has  puzzled,  the  profoundest  heads  and  most  hu- 
mane hearts." 

"  Better  hang  them  off  and  done  with  it  They 
always  come  out  of  prison  worse  than  they  went  in 
— especially  the  women,"  affirmed  Mort,  with  more 
than  usual  dramatic  bitterness. 

"  Some  of  the  gentlemen  I  shave,"  said  Sam,  with 
a  quiet  little  laugh,  "  talk  philosophy  in  my  shop  by 
the  hour,  and  I  know  the  definition  of  their  terms, 
if  nothing  more  (Sam  gave  another  quiet  little 
laugh).  They  would  call  you  a  pessimist  of  the 
deepest  dye,  Mort,  for  the  way  you  bear  the  moral 
market  is  perfectly  im — MENSE  !  " 

"  Bear  the  moral  market,  Sam  ?"  repeated  Mort, 
looking  puzzled. 

"  Moral  philosophy,  you  know ;  optimism,  for 
instance ;  you  belonging  to  the  pessimist  school, 
that  says  all  is  evil,  you  know." 

"  You're  out  far  beyond  my  depth,  Sam  ;  I  hope 
you're  not  out  beyond  your  own,"  replied  Mort 
Binns,  smiling  grimly. 

It  was  with  manifest  enjoyment  of  this  little  pas- 
sage at  arms  that  Professor  Wye,  casting  his  glance 
over  at  Mort  Binns  as  he  put  me  down  from  his 
knee  and  rose  to  go,  said,  drily : 

"  Mr.  Bowen  and  I  evidently  deem  life  too  short 


U6  BRINKA; 

to  be  viewed  from  the  tub  of  Diogenes,  Mr.  Binns, 
liking  best  the  wider  range  of  the  optimists,  who  see 
much  good  in  mankind  —especially  in  women." 

Sam  Bowen  burst  out  laughing,  whilst  Mort, 
looking  gloomily  pleased,  performed  the  cavernous 
chuckle  in  his  throat  that  served  him  for  laughter. 
As  we  were  about  quitting  the  room,  Sam  came  up 
to  me,  looking  wistfully  in  my  face,  and  laid  both 
hands  softly  on  my  shoulders. 

"  Should  Professor  Wye  ever  come  to  Providence 
he  must  bring  you,  Caryl.  I've  a  little  shaver  about 
your  age  you'd  like  to  know.  He's  a  fine  little  fel- 
low, Professor  Wye,  and  you'd  be  the  first  to  say 
so."  Sam  addressed  the  Professor,  as  being  the  best 
possible  judge  of  fine  little  fellows,  with  an  earnest- 
ness that  would  have  been  amusing  had  it  not  been 
almost  pathetic. 

The  Professor,  always  comprehending  the  tender- 
hearted little  barber,  declared,  his  fine  face  lit  up  by 
a  smile,  that  he  should  certainly  give  me  a  chance 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  his  little  boy,  as  from 
time  to  time  I  would  like  to  know  of  the  welfare  of 
Corrie  Redwood. 

"  I  am  so  glad,  Professor  Wye,  that  Caryl  is  with 
you,  and  that  he  will  have  a  chance  in  life.  His 
mother  was  always  so  kind  to  me,  and  she  was  the 
sweetest  and  best  woman  in  the  world.  I  am  going 
right  back  to  Providence  now ;  I  only  came  on 
Caryl's  account — I  thought  he  would  like  to  know 
about  Corrie." 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  I  do,"  I  replied,  eagerly.     "  I've 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


117 


thought  and  thought  and  thought,  and  wished  and 
wished  and  wished  I  could  know  if  he  got  out  of  it 
all  right." 

Thanking  Sam  for  his  thoughtful  kindness,  and 
bidding  him  and  Mort  Binns  good  day,  the  Profes- 
sor and  I  went  back  to  Elm  Ridge. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  the  Professor  to  me,  as  we 
wrere  going  through  the  leafless  woods  over  in  Gro- 
ton,  "  it  was  a  terrible  ordeal  Corrie  Redwood  sub- 
jected you  to  in  that  Red  House ;  I  can  never  quite 
forgive  him.  You  stood  it  bravely,  and,  not  suc- 
cumbing to  it,  you  will  become  greater  for  having 
gone  through  it — the  experience  will  stand  you  in 
stead  till  the  latest  day  of  your  life ;  for  it  is  through 
suffering  we  grow  great  and  wise  and  good.  Not 
continuous  suffering — that  would  crush  the  stoutest 
of  us.  I  do  not  suppose  you  quite  understand  me; 
but  I  intend  to  make  your  life  hereafter  as  full  of  all 
that  is  desirable  and  as  free  from  sorrow  as  pos- 
sible. You  may  have  sorrows,  but  you  shall  also 
have  many  joys — all  that  the  great  affection  I  feel 
for  you  can  find  means  of  bestowing." 

I  understood  the  Professor  better  than  he 
thought,  and  his  words  sank  deep  into  my  heart ; 
and  his  assurances  of  protection  and  affection  grati- 
fied me  beyond  anything  I  knew  how  to  express. 
I  felt  my  throat  choke  as  though  there  were  a  great 
lump  in  it,  and  I  wondered  if  it  were  the  globus  hip- 
popotamus Mrs.  Blythe  spoke  of,  though  I  did  not 
ask  the  Professor  about  it  just  then. 

Swallowing  down  the  choking,  I   said,  "  Thank 


j  j  8  BR1NKA  : 

you,  sir,"  and  then,  after  the  Professor  had  told  me 
one  or  two  droll  incidents  that  had  happened  in 
school,  and  had  gotten  me  to  laughing,  1  asked 
would  he  kindly  tell  me  the  meaning  of  some 
words. 

"  By  all  means,"  he  replied  ;  "  what  are  they  ?" 

"A  pessimist,"  said  I,  promptly,  "  I  know  is  some 
one  who  thinks  that  everything  is  the  worst  that  can 
be ;  and  an  optimist  is  some  one  who  thinks  every- 
thing is  the  best  that  can  be.  But  I  would  like  to 
know  the  meaning  of  some  other  words." 

"  How  did  you  get  hold  of  such  apt  definitions  to 
such  great  subjects?"  asked  the  Professor,  much 
amused. 

"  They  were  talking  about  it  all,  you  know,  sir, 
this  afternoon,  Sam  and  Mort  and — " 

"  Yes,  I  recollect,"  and  the  Professor  gave  me  a 
quick,  critical  look,  as  a  physician  might.  "  Rather 
large  subjects  for  little  heads,  are  they  not  ?  Though 
your  little  head  seems  somehow  to  have — "  and  the 
Professor  paused  again. 

"  Caught  on,"  I  returned,  filling  out  his  sentence 
with  a  slang  term  I  had  heard  Roy  Hildreth  use. 

"  It  is  better  for  little  heads,"  said  the  Professor, 
fairly  laughing,  and  lightly  patting  me  on  my  head, 
"  not  to  be  over-ambitious,  but  to  bear  in  mind  the 
fate  of  the  poor  mother-frog  ^isop  tells  about. 
Your  definitions  of  the  two  great  questions  are 
quite  correct  as  far  as  they  go,  and  will  suffice  until 
you  are  old  enough  to  comprehend  the  subtleties  of 
the  profound  philosophy  of  optimism." 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS.  1 1  g 

"  Do  you  suppose,  sir,  that  Mort  Binns  under- 
stands the  subtleties  of  the  profound  philosophy  of 
optimism  ?"  I  asked. 

"  It  is  more  than  doubtful,"  replied  the  Professor, 
decisively,  with  a  great  smile. 

"  Do  you  think  Sam  does  ?"  insisted  I. 

"  He  undoubtedly  knows  a  little  more  of  the  sub- 
ject than  you  do,  for  instance,"  returned  the  Profes- 
sor, humoring  my  inquisitiveness. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  I,  hesitatingly, "  that  osculation 
of  curves  and  the  differential  calculus  are  too  large 
subjects  for  me  to  understand ;  but  I  would  like  to 
know  what  the  osculation  of  curves  means,  if  you 
please,  sir.  Mrs.  Blythe  said  she  didn't  know  any- 
thing of  curves." 

"  There  are  only  three  or  four  of  the  senior  boys 
who  have  arrived  that  far  in  their  mathematical 
studies,  so  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  wait  awhile 
until  you  have  climbed  a  little  farther  up  the  hill  of 
learning." 

"  Oh !  I  can  wait,"  I  returned,  quite  contentedly. 

"  I  will  make  a  diagram  for  you  showing  you  how 
curves  cross  each  other  in  osculation,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor, taking  from  his  pocket  an  envelope  and  draw- 
ing with  his  pencil,  on  the  back  of  it,  intersecting 
curves. 

"  Oh' !"  I  exclaimed,  "  I  think  I  could  understand 
that  easy  enough." 

The  Professor  smiled,  but  said  nothing,  and  I  felt 
quite  taken  down  again. 

"  Have  I  climbed  far  enough  up  the  hill  of  learn- 


I  20  BRINK  A  : 

ing,"  asked  I,  "  to  know  what  the  globus-hippopota- 
mus  in  the  throat  is  ?" 

"The  what,  my  boy?"  asked  the  Professor,  with 
a  smile  that  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh — the  first 
hearty  laugh  I  had  ever  heard  from  his  lips,  he  not 
being  much  given  to  laughing. 

"  Mrs.  Blythe  called  it  that,"  said  I,  hesitatingly. 

"  Mrs.  Blythe  is  an  excellent  woman,  one  of  the 
very  best  women  in  the  world,"  averred  the  Pro- 
fessor, very  gravely.  "  But  she  is  sometimes  at  fault 
in  her  selection  of  words.  She  undoubtedly  meant 
globus  liystcricus.  It  is  a  medical  term — you  may 
study  medicine  some  day."  And  the  Professor 
turned  the  horse's  head  into  the  carriage-drive  of 
Elm  Ridge. 


AN  AMERICA  N  CO  UNTESS.  1 2  \ 


XII. 

BRINKA    WRITES. 

IT  was  a  wild  day,  and  had  been  snowing  and 
blowing  and  freezing  since  morning.  The 
cold  outside  of  the  house  was  intense,  and  after 
school  hours  the  most  of  the  boys  had  resorted  to 
the  great  class-room,  in  which  they  usually  studied 
their  lessons.  Some  were  playing  dominoes;  some 
draughts,  and  some  were  actively  engaged  in  a 
game  familiarly  known  as  a  "  sky-lark,"  at  which 
they  were  adepts,  while  a  few  had  settled  down  to 
reading,  with  their  fingers  in  their  ears  to  keep  out 
the  din.  Two  of  the  older  boys  had  sedately  taken 
their  chessmen  to  one  of  the  smaller  class-rooms, 
saying  they  might  as  well  think  of  playing  in 
Bedlam. 

It  was  the  hour  before  supper,  and  the  twilight  of 
the  short  winter  day  had  come  soofter  for  the  dark- 
ness of  the  storm.  The  waiter  had  just  lighted  the 
two  great  swinging  astral  lamps  that  hung  suspended 
one  at  each  end  of  the  long  table  in  the  centre  of 
the  room,  when  Harding  Baker  burst  in,  out  of 
breath  with  haste. 

"  Letters  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Dick's  just  come  from 
the  post-office  with  the  mail,  and  he  looks  for  all 
the  world  like  a  great  polar  bear,  completely  cov- 


122  BR1NKA: 

ered  with  snow,  and  his  whiskers  and  hair  all  hang- 
ing with  frost  and  icicles.  He's  got — " 

"  Conundrum  !"  cried  Hedrick.  "  Listen  !  Why 
are  the  meridians  widened  at  the  poles  in  the  Mer- 
cator  chart  ?" 

"  To  give  the  polar  bears  more  room  ;  don't  you 
see?"  replied  Roy  Hildreth.  "Any  letters  for  me, 
Hard  Bake  ?" 

"  That's  not  the  answer ;  hear  it  out,"  shouted 
Hedrick.  "  Why  are  the  meridians  in  the  Mercator 
chart  widened  straight  up  to  the  poles  in  parallel — " 

But  no  one  listened — all  were  clamoring  for 
letters. 

"  And  one  for  Caryl  Forsythe  Leighton,"  counted 
off  Harding,  handing  me  a  letter,  the  first  I  had  ever 
received. 

"  Hello  !  who  can  bs  writing  to  the  Infant,  here?" 
wondered  Whipple,  who  had  received  no  letter. 

"  Easy  enough  to  find  out,"  vociferated  Clavel 
Repsneider,  boisterously,  suddenly  snatching  my 
letter  from  my  hand  and  tearing  open  the  envelope. 

"  I  say,  now,  old  Ripsnorter,  give  Caryl  back  his 
letter,"  importuned  Harding.  "  'Tisn't  fair,  you 
know." 

"  If  anybody  expects  anything  fair  and  square," 
sneered  Hildreth,  "  from  Clavel  Repsneider  except 
on  compulsion,  he  won't — " 

"  He  won't  get  it — that's  about  the  size  of  it. 
How  well  you  know  me,  Yellow  Jacket !"  retorted 
Clavel,  with  an  ugly  laugh,  as  he  continued  making 
himself  master  of  the  contents  of  my  letter. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  I2i 

"  It's  from  a  young  lady,  and  it's  all  written  in 
capitals,  so  she  must  be  a  very  juvenile  young  lady," 
he  scoffed,  "  and  her  name  is  Brinka ;  and  she's  a 
countess,  and  her  father's  the  Duke  of  Chillingford. 
There's  a  coronet  on  the  seal.  We  didn't  any  of  us 
dream  that  little  Leighton  was  in  correspondence 
with  titled  aristocracy ;  we  shall  have  to  bend  the 
knee  to  him,"  continued  Clavel,  with  mock  defer- 
ence. "  The  letter  hasn't  a  comma  or  period  in  it 
from  beginning  to  end — it  ought  to  be  put  in  the 
museum.  Listen,  boys : 

"  ' DEAR  CARYL 

"  '  IVE  JUST  GOT  BACK  FROM  CHILLINGFORD  CASTLE 
'  IN  THE  STEAMER  PAPA  HAS  HAD  IT  ALL  FITTED  UP 
'  MAGNIFICENTLY  AND  EVERY  ONE  CALLED  HIM  MY 
'  LORD  DUKE  BUT  I  LIKE  NEW  YORK  BEST  I  HAVE '  " 

"  It's  too  deuced  mean  to  read  the  Infant's  letter 
out  loud,"  remonstrated  Whipple,  with  a  laugh,  as 
he  tried  to  take  it  from  Clavel. 

"  Oh  !  would  you  ?"  cried  Clavel,  holding  the  let- 
ter up  at  arm's  length. 

"Oh,  go  on  and  read,  it's  nuts!"  shouted  a  boy 
dubbed  Muggins. 

"  /';//  going  to  report  you  to  Professor  Wye," 
threatened  Hedrick,  "  he'll  settle  the  letter  question." 

"  I  am  with  you,"  said  Roy  Hildreth,  and  they 
left  the  room  together,  Whipple  persisting  in  a 
wrestle  with  Clavel  for  my  letter,  that  ended  in  Ga- 
vel's leaping  up  on  the  table  and  holding  up  the 


124 


SK/A'A'A  : 


letter  exultantly.  I,  swelling  and  choking  with  in- 
dignation, would  have  annihilated  him  if  I  could, 
but  I  looked  on  in  silence,  while  he  read  on  : 

"  '  I  HAVE  NOT  LEARNED  TO  WRITE  YET  I  ONLY  MAKE 
'  POT  HOOKS  ?  ?  ?  ?  AND  STRAIGHT  LINES  /  /  /  /  IN 
'  MY  COPY  BOOK  THIS  IS  THE  FIRST  LETTER  I  EVER 
'  WROTE  HOW  FAR  HAVE  YOU  GOT  IN  WRITING  I  TOOK 
'  THESE  LETTERS  ALL  FROM  MY  BLOCKS  MISS  FITCH 
'  SHE  IS  MY  GOVERNESS  WANTS  TO  CORRECT  THIS  AND 
'  TO  WRITE  IT  OVER  BUT  I  WONT  LET  HER  I  LIKE  IT 
'  BETTER  AS  IT  IS  DONT  YOU  SHE  SAYS  A  COUNTESS 
'  OUGHT  TO  WRITE  A  NICE  LETTER  BUT  I  TOLD  HER 
'  THAT  I  WAS  AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS  AND  THAT 
'  MAKES  ALL  THE  DIFFERENCE  IN  THE  WORLD  YOU 
'  KNOW  I  WAS  BORN  IN  NEW  YORK  YOU  MUST  ANSWER 
'THIS  I  AM  COMING  TO  SEE  YOU 

'  YOUR  AFFECTIONATE  FRIEND, 

'  BRINKA  VAUGHAN.' 

"  There  it  is,  verbatim  ct  literatim"  triumphed 
Clavel,  as  he  concluded  the  letter. 

"  Professor  Wye's  coming,  so  look  out  for  your- 
self, old  Ripsnorter !"  called  out  Hcdrick,  running 
into  the  room  out  of  breath. 

"  You're  the  meanest  boy  in  school,  Punkin 
Head,"  snarled  Clavel,  scampering  down  from  his 
rostrum  in  the  greatest  haste.  And  throwing  my 
letter  down  at  my  feet,  he  caught  up  a  book  and 
ran  to  the  far  end  of  the  room  and  began  studying 
diligently. 


AN  AMERICAN  CO UNTESS.  T  2  5 

"  Too  thin  !  I  say,  fellows,  look  at  him  pretend- 
ing to  study,"  mocked  Roy  Hildreth,  who  had  come 
back  with  Hedrick. 

"  Sold  again  !"  laughed  Hedrick.  "  We  didn't  go 
near  the  Professor.  But  he's  coming  all  the  same, 
when  he  gets  good  and  ready — to-morrow,  perhaps." 

"  Take  that  for  your  punkin  head !"  thundered 
Clavel,  in  great  wrath,  hurling  his  book  at  Hedrick's 
head. 

Hedrick  dodged  the  book,  shouting  with  laugh- 
ter (Hedrick  was  always  laughing)  and  caught  it  on 
the  fly. 

"  Good  catch  !"  cried  Roy  Hildreth.  "  Hello  !  it's 
my  Virgil.  I  say,  throw  it  back  at  his  head  ;  per- 
haps you'll  get  some  of  the  contents  inside;  it's  the 
only  way  any'll  ever  get  in." 

The  book  instantly  left  Hedrick's  hand,  and  his 
aim  being  a  good  one,  it  hit  where  it  was  sent.  It 
must  have  hit  quite  hard,  for  Clavel  grew  furious, 
and  he  sent  the  book  back  again  with  a  will  to  Hed- 
rick, but  it  hit  Muggins  instead.  Muggins,  always 
ready,  threw  it  at  Clavel,  and  catching  up  book 
after  book  from  the  table,  he  threw  them  at  the 
boys  indiscriminately,  like  snow-balls,  breaking  up 
the  domino  and  chequer  players,  who  joined  in  with 
spirit,  and  the  air  was  instantly  thick  with  the 
shower  of  books.  My  letter,  meantime,  lay  on  the 
floor  where  Clavel  flung  it,  I  being  too  proud  and 
too  much  insulted  to  pick  it  up,  and  was  rescued  by 
Hildreth  before  it  had  been  trampled  quite  in  pieces 
by  the  many  scuffling  feet. 


126  BRINKA: 

"  Come,  Caryl,"  said  he,  crowding  it  into  my 
pocket,  "  let's  go  and  see  if  Dick's  fed  the  pony. 
There  are  too  many  ideas  flying  about  to  suit  me," 
he  cried  above  the  din.  "  You'll  have  Bervault  in 
here  reading  the  riot  act."  And  we  ran  out  through 
the  storm  to  the  stables,  Marco,  who  had  somehow 
found  us,  following.  And  what  with  Marco  and 
Roy's  pony  and  Roy's  sympathy,  and  the  Guinea- 
pigs,  which  we  fed,  and  Dick's  telling  about  a  boat's 
capsizing  in  the  river  when  he  was  coming  over  in 
the  ferry-boat,  he  helping  to  get  the  three  men  who 
were  in  the  boat,  and  who  were  nearly  drowned, 
safely  up  in  the  ferry-boat,  I  forgot  my  excessive 
indignation  at  Clavel. 

"  It's  a  boss  letter,  anyway,"  declared  Hildreth, 
on  our  way  back  to  the  house  at  the  summons  of 
the  gong  for  supper.  "  Punkin  Head  and  I  heard 
every  word  of  it  outside  the  door.  But  I  wouldn't 
give  Ripsnorter  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  I  was 
listening,"  he  confessed,  "  though  all  the  same  I  was 
dying  to  hear  it.  I  wouldn't  care  a  fillip  about  it's 
being  read  out.  If  I  had  a  letter  from  a  countess 
I  wouldn't  care  how  many  knew  it." 

"  Wouldn't  you  ?"  I  asked. 

"  But  I  should  like  to  punch  Ripsnorter's  head 
for  him  for  his — impudence.  A  big  fellow  hasn't  a 
right  to  put  upon  a  little  fellow  that  way." 

"  It's  awfully  good  of  you  to  say  so,  Roy,"  I  re- 
turned, all  my  indignation  coming  back  with  re- 
newed violence.  "  I  only  wish  I  had  Jack's  invisi- 
ble mantle  and  sword  of  sharpness,  I'd  cut  off — " 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


127 


"  Oh,  I  say !  punching  a  fellow's  head  is  one 
thing,  and  cutting  off  a  fellow's  head's  another,  you 
know."  And  with  this  trite  aphorism  as  a  check 
upon  my  sanguinary  spirit,  I  followed  Roy  into  the 
dining-room,  crowded  with  hungry  boys,  and  tak- 
ing my  place  at  table,  which  was  beside  Roy,  I  par- 
took ravenously  of  a  hearty  supper  with  appetite 
unimpaired  by  any  recent  disturbing  event. 


I28  BRINKA: 


XIII. 
MY    FIRST    LESSON    IN    ASTRONOMY. 

IT  was  just  after  the  Easter  holidays,  and  I  had 
been  at  the  school  nearly  a  year.  To  the  ice- 
bound days,  with  their  skating  and  sledding,  had 
succeeded  kiting,  marbles,  hockey,  base-ball,  and 
budding  spring. 

I  had  been  once  to  Providence  in  the  winter  with 
the  Professor,  and  had  learned  that  Corrie  Redwood 
was  still  in  San  Francisco  and  was  doing  well ;  and 
also  that  Nancy  Redwood  and  Ranee  Noney  and 
Hi  and  Snake  had  had  their  trial  and  were  serving 
out  their  time  in  prison.  The  gentleman  whose 
house  had  been  robbed  having  recovered  from  his 
injuries,  they  were  tried  and  sentenced  for  burglary. 

It  was  a  terrible  load  for  me  to  carry,  and  I  took 
such  unceasing  care  never  to  allude  to  them  or  to 
any  one  or  anything  connected  with  my  life  in  the 
Red  House  that  I  felt  myself  grow  old  and  uncanny 
in  my  reticent  life  among  the  bright,  careless  boys 
around  me.  They  were  all  for  the  most  part  kind 
to  me,  or  at  the  least  indifferent,  Clavel  Repsneider 
being  the  only  one  among  them  who  manifested 
any  hostility  toward  me.  But  it  was  in  the  loving 
kindness  of  the  Professor  that  I  took  refuge  from 


AN  AMERICAN  CO UNTESS.  1 2g 

the  indifference  of  the  great  boys  and  the  malice  of 
Clavel. 

Roy  Hildreth  and  some  of  the  younger  boys  were 
always  friendly  with  me,  but  Roy,  the  youngest  of 
the  school  except  myself,  was  three  years  my 
senior,  so  that  in  a  great  measure  I  was  one  by 
myself. 

It  was  the  brightest  of  bright  days,  and  the  boys 
were  all  at  hard  labor  over  a  game  of  foot-ball.  I 
looked  on  for  a  time,  then  wandered  off  over  the 
grounds. 

Down  in  the  meadows  by  the  running  brook  I 
gathered  wild  anemones,  cowslips,  daisies,  and  blue 
violets ;  upon  the  edge  of  the  woods  the  trailing 
arbutus  ;  and  to  these  I  added  from  the  garden,  cro- 
cusus  and  lilies  of  the  valley.  A  bright  thought 
striking  me,  I  ran  into  the  house,  arranged  the 
flowers  in  a  vase  of  water,  and  stood  them  on  the 
Professor's  desk,  singing,  as  I  admiringly  studied 
the  effect,  snatches  from  the  scherzo  of  a  sonata  he 
had  been  playing  the  previous  evening. 

"  Bless  us !"  exclaimed  a  voice  I  well  knew, 
"  a  body  looks  for  gals  to  pick  posies  and  make  up 
into  nosegays,  but  for  a  boy,  with  such  a  proper 
sweet  voice,  too !  And  who  but  me'll  tell  the  Pro- 
fessor who  it  is  that  comes  to  his  desk  as  to  a  srine 
a-bringin'  his  motive  offerin',  and  a-chauntin'  his 
ora  probocis  like  a  blessed  little  priest  from  the 
temple  of  Apollyon!" 

"  I  thought,"  returned  I,  as  I  shyly  eeled  myself 
out  from  under  the  chubby  hand  Mrs.  Blythe  had 


BRINK  A  : 

admiringly  laid  on  my  shoulder,  as  she  gazed  with 
pleasant  satisfaction  in  my  face,  "  I  thought  that 
Apollyon  was  a  flying  devil,  who  tried  to  kill  Chris- 
tian. It's  in  the  '  Pilgrim's  Progress,'  but  it  don't 
say  he  could  sing." 

"  Jest  hear  how  he  remembers  it  all !"  and  she  re- 
garded me  with  still  greater  admiring  satisfaction. 
"  I  hear  a  deal  of  larnin'  floatin'  around,  but  some- 
how I  often  disremember  the  pint.  If  it  wa'n't 
Apollyon,  it  must  have  been  Apollo.  It's  some  one 
on  um.  It  takes  boys,  though;  they  take  to  larnin' 
like  a  baby  to  the  measles.  I  s'pose  'twas  Apollo." 

"  Oh!  yes,"  I  returned,  with  warmth,  "Apollo  was 
a  musician  and  lived  in  a  temple.  The  boys  say 
lessons  about  him." 

"  Now,  aint  he  peart  ?  And  don't  the  Scripters 
say  that  out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  proceedeth  wis- 
dom? And  don't  we  admire  to  have  him  here 
amongst  us  ?"  said  Mrs.  Blythe,  waving  her  plump 
arm  over  toward  the  vase  of  flowers,  as  though  de- 
manding a  reply  from  them. 

"  If  you'll  come  over  into  my  sittin'-room  I'll  give 
you  some  fresh  apple  tarts  Leah  has  just  baked. 
Do  you  like  stories  ?" 

"  Stories  to  read  out  of  a  book  ?"  I  asked,  a  little 
doubtful  if  she  did  not  mean  some  new  kind  of  tart. 

"  No,  stories  by  word  of  mouth,  orially." 

"Just  try  m2  once,"  I  returned.  "You  might 
tell  me  one,  if  you'll  be  so  good,  while  I  am  eating 
the  tart,  you  know." 

With  this  hint  she  led  the  way  to  her  parlor,  and 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS.  i  $  r 

setting  before  me  her  tempting  tarts,  she  wanted  to 
know  which  she  should  tell  me  first. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  about  Joseph  and  his  bretheren, 
or  about  Dannel,  who  the  lions  wouldn't  eat,  or 
about  Og,  king  of  Bashan,  the  last  of  the  giants  ip 
the  time  of  Moses,  whose  iron  bedstead  was  nine 
cupids  long  and  four  cupids  wide,  or  the  pretty 
story  of  Ruth  ?  I  know  lots  of  Scripter  stories,  and 
they  are  the  best." 

With  my  mouth  full  of  tart,  I  begged  Mrs.  Blythe 
to  please  suit  herself,  as  I  liked  them  all,  and  was 
certain  she  knew  how  to  tell  the  best  stories  going. 

"  What  a  boy  for  compliments.  My  !  how  you'll 
set  the  gals  to  pullin'  caps  when  you  git  a  little 
bigger." 

"  What'll  they  pull  caps  for  ?"  I  asked,  with  the 
utmost  simplicity.  "  Besides,  I  only  know  one  girl, 
and  she  don't  wear  caps." 

"  You'll  see !"  and  Mrs.  Blythe  laughed  chubbily, 
and  then  commenced  a  series  of  entertaining  stories, 
that  so  intensely  interested  me  I  listened  and  ques- 
tioned long  after  the  tarts  were  finished. 

All  at  once,  from  the  finding  of  Moses  in  the  bul- 
rushes, she  took  a  leap  up  into  the  starry  heavens. 

"  Yes,  little  son,  say  what  agin  it  you  will,  they've 
got  it  all  reckoned  out,  even  to  the  weighin'  of  the 
earth,  moon,  and  stars." 

"  How  can  they  weigh  the  earth,  moon,  and 
stars  ?"  caviled  I,  more  astonished  than  I  was  will- 
ing to  own.  "  Besides,  who's  got  scales  big  enough, 
and  who  can  get  up  there  to  do  it  ?" 


132 


BRINKA  : 


"  Why,  bless  you,  child,  there's  a  pair  a' ready  up 
there — library,  the  scales,  to  be  sure.  I've  seen  the 
Professor  pint  them  all  out  to  the  boys  of  starlight 
evenin's.  I  oilers  pay  strict  attention  to  his  lecters 
on  astronomy,  though  he  doesn't  know  it,  because 
we're  enj'ined  by  the  Scripters  to  git  understand- 
in'." 

"  But,  suppose  the  scales  are  up  there,  there's  no 
way  of  getting  up  there  to  put  the  earth  into  library, 
the  scales,"  persisted  I,  in  the  arrogance  of  skeptical 
ignorance. 

"  Oh !  of  course,  they  don't  git  up  there ;  and  they 
don't  put  the  earth  into  the  scales,"  returned  she, 
in  radiant  assurance.  "  They  do  it  with  telescopes 
and  quadroons  of  multitude  and  murial  circles,  and 
all  those  euros  instruments  they  have  up  there  in 
the  Professor's  observatory.  I  could  not  be  sup- 
posed, of  course,  to  know  jest  how  they  do  it ;  I 
only  know  they  do,  for  Professor  Wye  isn't  one  to 
teach  what  isn't  so.  They  can  weigh  the  earth  and 
all  on  them  up  there  to  an  ounce." 

My  sense  of  the  practical  being  more  disturbed 
than  ever  in  my  life  before,  I  again  demurred, 
declaring  that  I  had  seen  all  the  things  up  in  the 
observatory,  and  that  they  couldn't  any  of  them 
reach  far  enough  up ;  and  as  for  the  quadrant  of 
altitude,  it  was  a  little  brass  thing  they  screwed  on 
globes  only  so  long,  and  I  wound  up  by  declaring 
that  the  sun  couldn't  be  weighed  any  way,  as  it  was 
a  ball  of  fire. 

Mrs.  Blythe  conceded  the  sun  to  me,  admitting 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS.  \  3  3 

that  she  had  never  heard  Professor  Wye  say  as  to 
the  sun. 

"  But  there's  lots  to  know,  little  son,"  she  has- 
tened to  add,  "  from  the  fact  that  the  earth  turns 
over  onct  in  twenty-four  hours,  to  the  fact  that — 
you  know,  Caryl,  that  the  earth  doos  turn  completely 
over,  performin'  a  somerset  reg'lar,  oncomprehen- 
sible  as  it  seems." 

"  I've  heard  the  boys  in  the  third  division,  in  their 
lessons  to  Leatham,  say  that  the  earth  turned  over, 
but  I  never  for  a  minute  believed  it ;  he's  such  a 
soft-y  that  they  can  make  him  swallow  anything," 
asserted  I. 

"  But  the  Professor  himself  says  so.  I've  heerd 
him  explainin'  it  lots  of  times,"  insisted  Mrs.  Blythe, 
with  the  most  chubby  pertinacity. 

"  It  must  go  over,  then,  when  I'm  asleep,"  I  de- 
clared, convinced  against  my  will.  "  But  what 
keeps  the  people  on  when  it  is  upside  down  ?" 

"  The  attraction  of  aggravation,  little  son — the  at- 

oo 

traction  of  aggravation  is  what  keeps  us  all  on,"  and 
Mrs.  Blythe  folded  the  stocking  she  had  been  darn- 
ing and  laid  it  in  the  basket  by  her  side,  nodding 
her  head  several  times  complacently  in  confirmation 
of  what  she  had  been  saying,  as  she  regarded  me 
with  her  cheerful,  chubby  smile. 

I  could  only  look  the  utter  mystification  I  felt. 

"  Yes,  the  earth  we  live  on,"  continued  she,  taking 
up  another  stocking  and  softly  patting  it  on  her 
open  palm  to  enforce  her  words,  "  performs  a  diur- 
nial  revulsion  onct  every  twenty-four  hours  on  its 


134 


BRINKA  : 


own  axle-tree,  and  we  go  around  with  it,  and  no 
mistake.  And  at  the  two  ends  of  the  axle-tree 
there's  two  poles,  the  north  pole  and  the  south  pole, 
stickin'  straight  up  in  the  air  like  liberty  poles." 

I  succumbed  to  these  accumulating  scientific  de- 
velopments, caviling  no  more.  Being  but  a  little 
over  eight  years  old  and  still  in  rudimentary  readers, 
I  was  nevertheless  intensely  ambitious,  grasping 
with  reckless  avidity  at  all  the  learning  that  was 
floating  around.  I  had  lieani  the  boys  say  lessons 
about  the  north  pole  and  the  south  pole,  and  wish- 
ing to  know  more,  I  asked : 

"  Are  they  real  flag-poles  ?" 

"  I  d'  know  as  I  quite  know  jest  what  they  air.  You 
see,  it's  so  cold  up  there  to  the  north  pole  and  so 
hot  down  there  to  the  south  pole  that  no  on3  has 
ever  got  there,  though  they've  tried  to." 

"  My !"  I  exclaimed,  "  I  intend  to  go  some  day 
just  to  see." 

"  Oh,  there's  heaps  they  know  for  sutten  !  For 
one  thing,  about  the  consternations.  One  set  of 
consternations  is  in  a  great,  broad  belt  they  call  the 
zodiac,  which  they  call  the  sun's  path,  because  the 
s.un  doesn't  travel  in  it,  but  only  seems  to.  An 
astronomer  named  P.  Tolemy,  who  was  a  negro 
living  in  Egypt  (I  guess  his  name  must  have  been 
Peter  Tolemy),  taught  that  the  sun  actooally  did  go 
around  the  earth  in  that  path  onct  a  year.  But 
Gallus-Leo  and  Copernicum  and  Sir  Isaac  Milton 
found  out  better,  and  said  that  it's  the  earth  that 
goes  around  the  sun." 


A  X  A  ME  RICA  N  CO  U.VTESS.  1 3  5 

"  My !"  I  exc'.aimsd,  "  I  should  think  it  would  get 
set  on  fire.  But  what  about  the  set  of  consternations 
that's  in  the  great,  broad  belt  they  call  the  zodiac  ?" 

"  Why,  they  have  a  reg'lar  march,  too,  that's 
called  the  percession  of  the  equalnoxes." 

"  Where  do  they  march  to,  and  how  can  they 
march  without  any  music  ?"  I  asked,  eager  to  know 
it  all. 

"  What  a  boy  for  thinking  of  things,"  returned 
Mrs.  Ely  the,  regarding  me  with  round-eyed  admi- 
ration. "  Why,  you  know  they  have  the  music  of 
the  spears  up  there,  and  that  orter  to  be  the  best 
kind  of  music  to  march  to." 

"  I  should  think  so  !"  I  exclaimed,  enthusiastically. 
"  They  must  have  a  jolly  good  time  up  there.  But 
where  do  they  march  to  ?" 

"Around  and  around,"  answered  she,  myste- 
riously. 

"Do  they  really  march,  or  do  they  only  seem  to, 
like  the  sun  ?" 

"  Was  there  ever  such  a  boy  for  pinnin'  you 
down  to  the  pint  ?"  cried  Mrs.  Bly the,  patting  my 
check  softly  with  her  hand,  now  encased  in  a  snow- 
white  sock  she  was  examining  for  stray  holes. 
"  But  nothin's  no  truer.  They  go  marchin'  around 
and  around  in  the  sun's  path  for  sutten." 

"  What  do  they  call  them  consternations  for?"  I 
asked. 

"  I  couldn't  tell  you,  little,  son;  but  I  pesume  it's 
because  it's  all  so  mysterious  and  solemn  up  there. 
But  this  I  know — the  twelve  consternations  that  go 


!  ^  6  BRINK  A  : 

marchin'  in  the  percession  of  the  equalnoxes  are 
called  the  signers  of  the  zodiac." 

"  What  do  they  sign  ?"  I  urged. 

"  Some  kind  of  a  celestial  temperance  pledge,  I 
pesume,"  returned  Mrs.  Ely  the,  looking  at  me  with 
round,  mild,  speculative  eyes ;  "  though  I  never 
heerd  tell  what  they  do  sign,"  she  added,  compla- 
cently, smoothing  her  spotless  white  apron  with  her 
plump,  dimpled  hands. 

"  How  can  they  sign  without  a  pen  and  ink  up 
there  ?"  I  queried,  my  skepticism  returning  in  full 
vigor. 

"  Oh !  they  don't  need  pens  and  ink,  they  do  it 
spiritooally,  some  way.  I  know  they  sign,  because 
the  Professor  calls  them  signers  of  the  zodiac. 
Signers  of  the  zodiac,"  she  repeated,  to  enforce  her 
words.  "And  if  they're  signers,  why,  of  course, 
they  must  sign." 

This  logic  bein^  unanswerable,  I  said  nothing. 

"And  they've  all  got  separate  names,"  she  re- 
sumed, with  renewed  interest  in  her  subject. 

"  Separate  names  ?"  I  echoed. 

"  I  reckon  I  can  almost  remember  the  way  it 
goes,  because  it's  such  pretty  poetry." 

"  Poetry,"  said  I,  "  I  like  poetry.  How  does  it 
go?" 

"  Let's  see,"  and  she  tilted  her  head  on  onj  side 
and  looked  up  at  the  ceiling.  "  There  is : 

"Air — us,  the  ram,     . 

"  Tear — us,  the  bull, 

"  Corn — us,  the  crab, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS, 


137 


"  Horn — us,  the  goat, 

"  Scorn — us,  the  scorpion, 

"  Nurse — us,  the  bear — no,  nurse — us,  the  bear, 
isn't  one  of  the  twelve  signers  of  the  zodiac,  though 
it  orter  be.  Let's  see,  there  is  : 

"Va^vzry — the  virgin, 

"Library — the  scales, 

"Aquarium — the  watermelon, 

"Satti^Yzrium — the  archer ;  and  then  there's  Castor- 
oil  and  Polly,  the  Twins,  and  Leo  Tenth,  the  Lion, 
that  don't  go  in  poetry.  But  they  go  with  the  rest, 
and  in  their  march  they  go  acrost  the  line  every 
spring  and  fall,  and  that  makes  the  line-gales." 

"  What  line  do  they  march  across  ?"  I  was  imag- 
ining a  celestial  clothes-line,  but  I  did  not  commit 
myself. 

"  The  equalnoxial  line,  and  that's  what  makes 
the  days  and  nights  of  equal  lenth,  you  see." 

I  did  not  see,  but  I  did  not  like  to  say  so.  I  only 
asked  what  time  in  the  night  the  band  began  to 
play,  and  when  did  the  lion  and  the  goat  and  bear 
and  crab  and  things  come  out  and  march,  asserting 
that  I  had  never  seen  anything  up  in  the  sky  that 
looked  like  bulls  and  watermelons  and  goats  and 
scales  and  things. 

"  Well,  little  son,  to  tell  you  the  solemn  truth,  I 
never  did,  nuther.  But  the  boys  all  see  them  when 
the  Professor  pints  them  out;  so  they  must  be 
there,  for  Professor  Wye  isn't  one  to  teach  what 
isn't  so." 

Quite  certain  of  the  truth  of  this  repeated  asser- 


138  BR/XA'A: 

tion,  I  begged  her  to  wake  me  up  the  very  next 
time  the  Professor  pointed  them  out  to  the  boys, 
and  she  said  she  would.  And  although  I  listened, 
looking  up  through  the  darkness  into  the  starry  sky 
with  my  head  bent  backward  until  I  got  a  crick  in 
my  neck  and  had  to  wear  a  strip  of  flannel  around 
my  throat ;  and  although  the  boys  saw  them,  and 
traced  the  milky  way  and  the  various  constellations  ; 
I  could  see  no  milk  or  dippers  or  chairs,  and  could 
make  nothing  of  it  all,  and  began  to  think  there 
must  be  something  wrong  about  my  eyes.  I  prowled 
around  night  after  night  with  my  face  turned  star- 
ward  ;  or  watched  from  my  chamber  window  as 
long  as  I  could  keep  my  eyes  open ;  but  I  could 
never  distinguish  anything  different  one  night  from 
the  night  preceding.  Mrs.  Blythe  said  it  was  be- 
cause I  was  not  old  enough,  and  I  had  to  rest  con- 
tent with  that. 

It  became  quite  an  habitual  thing  for  me  to  seek 
Mrs.  Blythe's  cozy  little  parlor,  and  eat  tarts  and 
listen  to  her  Bible-stories  ;  receiving,  at  times,  gra- 
tuitous lessons  in  the  whole  range  of  sciences. 
Once,  while  quoting  Job  about  Orion  and  the  Ple- 
iades, she  informed  me  that  in  those  days  there  were 
seven  of  the  Pleiades,  but  that  one  had  dropped  out 
of  the  heavens,  leaving  but  six ;  and  I  went  away 
feeling  quite  uncomfortable  lest  the  earth  (which 
she  said  was  a  star  like  the  rest)  might  some  night, 
while  turning  its  somersault,  suddenly  drop  out, 
with  all  of  us  on  it,  down  somewhere  into  unknown 
regions  of  darkness  or  fire. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


139 


As  I  progressed  in  my  studies,  finding  a  decided 
discrepancy  between  her  lessons  and  those  of  the 
masters  in  school,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she 
was  quite  well  skilled  in  theological  lore,  but  rather 
shaky  in  that  of  natural  science. 


140 


BRINKA  : 


XIV. 
"  I  TOLD  YOU  I  WOULD  COME." 

OUR  boys  were  all  away  for  the  summer  holi- 
days, I  being  the  only  one  left  at  Elm  Ridge, 
as  even  Clavel  R^psneider  had  gone  with  his 
mother  to  the  White  Mountains.  The  Professor, 
always  indulgent  to  his  sister  (who  had  been  left, 
with  her  son,  on  his  hands,  her  husband  having 
squandered  all  of  her  property  before  he  died),  had 
insisted  on  her  taking  this  recreation. 

The  morning  was  warm,  and  I  was  luxuriating  in 
a  hammock  under  one  of  the  great  elms  on  the 
lawn  in  front  of  the  house,  Marco  lying  lazily  at  full 
length  on  the  sward  beside  me.  Now  and  then  a 
venturesome  blue-bottle,  buzzing  too  near  his  nose, 
would  waken  him  from  his  slumbers.  Thereupon, 
warily  watching  its  motions  with  one  eye  open,  with 
one  snap  of  his  great  jaws  he  would  devote  the 
heedless  fly  to  destruction. 

The  sound  of  carriage-wheels  coming  up  the  ave- 
nue, breaking  the  stillness  of  the  perfect  morning, 
aroused  both  Marco  and  myself.  Looking  up  from 
the  book  over  which  I  had  been  poring  (the  boys' 
Koran,  Robinson  Crusoe),  I  beheld,  gazing  eagerly 
from  the  carriage  window,  a  face  of  flower-like 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


141 


brightness,  rich  in  coloring,  with  eyes  dark  and  lu- 
minous, that  found  what  they  sought  when  they  fell 
on  the  hammock  beneath  the  elm-tree,  from  which 
1  began  so  hastily  to  extricate  myself  that  I  pitched 
out  head  first  before  finding  my  feet. 

The  carriage  door  opened,  and  out  flew  the  light, 
agile  little  form,  and  while  I,  half  holding  back,  half 
pressing  forward  to  meet  her,  both  shy  and  glad,  was 
nearing  the  carriage,  she  had  reached  me,  and  a  pair 
of  loving  little  arms  were  thrown  around  my  neck. 

"  I  told  you  I  would  come  !"  she  exclaimed,  joy- 
fully, "  and  here  I  am." 

"  And  I  am  so  awfully  glad,"  I  cried.  "  And  you 
look  just  like — just  like  a  Jaqueminot  rose.  Come 
out  into  the  garden  and  see  if  you  don't." 

"  And,  oh  !  I  love  them  better  than  all  the  roses 
put  together.  And  I'll  get  you  to  give  me  one,  so 
that  I  can  see  what  I  look  like."  And  the  little 
Countess  laughed  joyfully. 

"  I'll  pick  you  a  whole  bushel,"  I  returned,  enthu- 
siastically. 

"  My  !"  she  exclaimed,  sweeping  me  from  head 
to  foot  with  her  dark  eyes,  "  how  you  have  grown  ! 
You're  nearly  a  whole  head  taller  than  I  now,  and 
you  were  only  just  my  size  then,  you  know.  And 
you  are  as  big  and  brown  as — as — " 

"  As  a  cinnamon  bear,"  said  I,  and  we  both 
laughed  in  chorus. 

"  And  I  am  almost  as  old  as  you,"  returned 
Brinka,  in  a  tone  making  light  of  her  delicate  pro- 
portions. 


1 42  BRINKA: 

"  Oh  !  I  am  a  whole  year  and  more  older  than 
you,  you  know,  and  you  can  grow  in  a  year — " 

"  Twenty  feet,"  cried  Brinka,  and  we  laughed 
again — Puck  laughing  with  us,  or  seeming  to,  as  he 
wagged  himself  nearly  double  in  his  excess  of  joy. 
Marco,  while  benignly  accepting  Brinka  as  my 
friend,  accepted  Puck  also,  very  much  as  the  lion  in 
AL'.op  graciously  admitted  to  favor  the  kind  mouse, 
who  gnawed  the  ropes  and  freed  him  from  the 
snarer's  net. 

"  Papa  !"  exclaimed  Brinka,  turning  to  her  father, 
who,  near  by,  was  talking  with  Professor  Wye. 

"  What  is  it,  my  little  daughter  ?"  returned  Mr. 
Vaughan,  caressingly,  looking,  in  his  elaborate  and 
faultless  attire,  as  distinguished  as  the  gentlemen  of 
the  Sir  Charles  Grandison  school. 

"  Please  introduce  me  to  Professor  Wye ;  I  wish 
to  pay  him  my  respects.  I  was  only  five  years  old 
whan  he  saw  me  last." 

"  Certainly,  my  pet ;  quite  right,"  and  the  intro- 
duction taking  place,  the  little  Countess  acknowl- 
edged the  Professor's  genial  salutation  with  such 
direct,  simple  grace,  that,  understanding  him  so  well 
as  I  had  grown  to,  I  saw  he  regarded  her  with  in- 
terest and  no  little  approval. 

"  Don't  you  find  Caryl  a  very  uncommon  boy, 
Professor  Wye  ?"  asked  she,  fixing  her  dark  eyes  on 
the  Professor's  face,  and  speaking  in  that  finely  in- 
tonated voice  that  made  her  words  as  charming  as 
that  of  the  fairy  who  spoke  pearls.  "  Because  I 
think  he  is,"  she  added. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

"  I  should  not  like  to  tell  you  before  him  just  how 
well  I  think  of  him,  my  little  girl,"  returned  the 
Professor,  with  his  great  smile. 

"  Does  Caryl  learn  his  lessons  well  ?"  inquired 
Brinka,  with  most  little-motherly  concern. 

"  So  well,  my  dear,  that  we  have  to  hold  him  back 
lest  he  grasp  the  whole  range  of  art  and  science  and 
outstrip  his  teachers,"  returned  the  Professor,  with 
gentle  irony,  looking  down  into  her  earnest,  upturned 
face  with  as  much  courtliness  as  though  she  were 
already  three  times  her  age. 

"  I  understand,"  she  said,  drawing  up  her  dainty 
little  form  with  imperial  dignity.  "  You  mean  what 
you  say,  although  you  are  half  laughing  at  Caryl. 
You  see,  I  was  right,  papa,"  she  added,  turning  to 
her  father. 

"  You  are  always  right,  are  you  not,  my  pet  ?" 
said  Mr.  Vaughan,  who  was  smoothing  the  lustrous 
hair  of  his  little  daughter  with  his  white,  ungloved 
right  hand. 

The  Professor  and  Mr.  Vaughan  took  seats  on 
the  veranda,  and  Brinka  saying,  "  Come,  Caryl,  let 
us  go  out  into  the  garden,"  we  ran  down  the  ver- 
anda steps,  and  then  stopped  to  hearken  to  the  Pro- 
fessor's remark  : 

"  The  little  folks  of  this  age  are  far  beyond  those 
of  even  as  far  back  as  my  boyhood — in  mental  de- 
velopment, I  mean,"  he  asserted. 

"  Yes,  certainly.  Do  you  think  so,  Professor  Wye  ? 
But  then  we  have  had  exceptional  children  in  all  ages, 
you  know,"  assented  and  dissented  Mr.  Vaughan. 


144 


BRINK  A  : 


"  I  allude  to  the  average  child  as  well,"  returned 
the  Professor.  "  Learning  comes  easier  than  in 
years  gone  by,  acquirement  having  become  half  in- 
tuitional. The  endogenic  principle  is  so  gaining  over 
the  exogenic,  we  become  proficient  with  less  of  the 
plodding  and  delving  by  the  light  of  the  vaunted 
'  midnight  oil '  of  our  ancestors.  In  these  days  we 
shoot  at  learning  on  the  wing,  and  think  it  hard  if 
it  doesn't  come  down  to  us  at  the  first  shot,"  and  his 
eyes,  leaving  Mr.  Vaughan,  rested  on  Brinka  and  me. 

"  I  doubt  if  I  have  thought  much  on  the  subject," 
affirmed  Mr.  Vaughan,  with  a  polished  laugh,  "  and 
presented  in  that  light,  it  is  very  easy,  if  we  trace 
back  our  ancestry  to  the  Simiadae,  to  borrow  also 
from  the  palm  tree  its  distinctive  quality,"  and  Mr. 
Vaughan  gave  another  polished  laugh.  "  You  have 
had  a  better  opportunity  of  testing  the  subject  than 
I.  But  still,  it  is  the  exceptional  child  who  will 
prove  the  sharpest  shooter  and  bring  down  the 
choicest  spoil,"  and  Mr.  Vaughan's  steely  gray  eyes 
rested  fondly  on  the  little,  airy  form  of  his  own  ex- 
ceptional child,  who  had  just  taken  a  little  flying 
leap  upward,  bringing  down  not  any  scientific  spoil, 
but  a  choice  spray  of  feathery  blossoms  hanging 
from  a  stone  vase  above  our  heads  on  the  corner  of 
the  veranda,  and  with  which  she  was  ornamenting 
the  button-hole  of  my  jacket. 

"  But  this  is  a  fast  age,"  resumed  Mr.  Vaughan, 
meditatively.  "  If  we  learn  faster  we  live  faster, 
more  is  every  day  crowded  into  life,  and — we  also 
die  faster."  Mr.  Vaughan's  eyes,  as  they  left  the 
Professor's  face,  and  settled  again  on  the  bright  bit 


AN  A  ME  RICA  ff  CO  UNTESS.  r  4  - 

of  coloring  embodied  in  his  little  girl,  took  on  an 
almost  mournful  look,  as  though  he  almost  feared 
she  might  then  and  there  fade  from  his  sight. 

"Yes,  life  is  instinct  with  an  onvvardness  that 
would  be  appalling  if  we  could  take  time  to  be  ap- 
palled by  it,"  returned  the  Professor. 

The  conversation  no  longer  interested  us,  and  we 
moved  on. 

"  Professor  Wye  thinks  you  are  some,"  said  Brinka. 

"  He  thinks  you  are  some-er,"  I  returned,  and  we 
could  not  have  laughed  more  heartily  if  my  trite 
speech  had  been  the  most  pungent  witticism  ever 
uttered  by  a  Rabelais. 

We  wandered  through  the  grounds  and  rowed  on 
the  pond,  and  Marco  and  Puck  (Marco  the  largest 
and  Puck  the  smallest  of  dogs)  insisted  on  going  in 
the  boat  with  us — for  ballast,  Brinka  said — and  invari- 
ably getting  on  the  lee-ward  side,  came  near  upsetting 
us  more  than  once.  Brinka  was  delighted  with  every- 
thing, and  when  we  returned,  Marco  all  dripping 
from  jumping  ashore  too  soon  and  not  calculating 
his  distance,  we  found  Professor  Wye  asking  Mr. 
Vaughan  to  give  up  his  intention  of  simply  spend- 
ing the  day  at  Elm  Ridge,  and  conclude  upon  re- 
maining several  weeks. 

Brinka,  all  glowing  from  our  run  and  laden  with 
pond  lilies  and  roses,  was  wild  with  delight  at  the 
prospect,  and  my  delight,  if  less  demonstrative,  was 
none  the  less  genuine. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  say,  my  pet,"  accorded  Mr. 
Vaughan,  gathering  in  the  loose  threads  of  his  pet's 


BRINKA: 

silken  hair  and  smoothing  it  with  his  long,  slender 
fingers  into  becoming  order.  "  Your  Uncle  Julian 
and  your  cousins  will  be  expecting  us,  but  can  wait. 
Our  trunks,"  and  Mr.  Vaughan  turned  to  the  Pro- 
fessor, "  and  Brinka's  maid  are  at  the  hotel  over  in 
New  London,  and  can  be  sent  for,  since  you  so 
kindly  insist.  We  were  intending  to  proceed  on  to 
the  Thousand  Islands  in  the  morning,  stopping  to- 
night in  New  London." 

"  Oh,  I  had  rather  a  thousand  times  stay  here 
than  go  to  the  Thousand  Islands  !  It  is  a  thousand 
times  nicer  here.  Uncle  Julian  won't  mind,  and 
Caryl  is  a  thousand  times  nicer  than  all  my  cousins 
put  together.  They're  all  the  time  wanting  me  to 
go  to  boat-races  and  that.  Caryl's  little  boat  on 
the  pond  is  nicer  than  all  their  stupid  yachts.  I 
like  the  flowers  here  best,  and  the  Guinea-pigs,  and 
Caryl's  big  Marco.  And  now  I'll  go  and  put  these 
lovely  lilies  in  water  before  they  wither." 

As  Brinka's  happiness  was  the  chief  business  and 
pleasure  of  Mr.  Vaughan's  life,  all  was  delightfully 
arranged,  and  in  the  afternoon  his  elegant  carriage 
and  the  four  high-stepping  grays  appeared,  with  the 
trunks  and  Brinka's  maid ;  also,  Jenkins,  the  coach- 
man, and  Roberts,  the  Duke's  waiting-man.  And 
for  the  next  three  weeks  Brinka's  maid  was  kept 
pretty  busy  repairing  the  damages  the  gowns  of  the 
little  Countess  received  by  flood  and  field,  in  other 
words,  in  the  boat  on  the  pond,  and  in  conflicts  with 
stubborn  briers  in  our  rambles  over  hill-tops  and 
through  meadows  in  pursuit  of  flowers,  ferns,  health, 
and  happiness. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


XV. 
A   TRIANGULAR    ARRANGEMENT. 

IT  lacked  but  two  days  of  the  three  weeks  agreed 
upon  as  the  length  of  Brinka's  visit,  and  re- 
turning to  the  house  on  that  day  rather  more  tat- 
tered and  wetted  and  muddied  than  usual,  the  little 
Countess  ran  to  her  own  room  to  be  dressed  by  her 
maid  for  dinner.  I  had  just  attired  myself  in  a 
pretty  new  suit,  spread  out  on  my  bed  by  Mrs. 
Blythe,  when  in  walked  that  lady  to  see,  as  she  said, 
that  my  hair  was  parted  nicely  and  my  gaiters  but- 
toned in  the  right  holes  and  my  necktie  on  straight. 
Having,  from  the  first  day  of  my  coming,  performed 
all  these  motherly  offices  for  me,  I  had  grown  quite 
used  to  her  kind  ministrations.  She  looked  so  even 
more  chubby  and  cheery  and  sympathetic  than 
usual,  that  I  resolved  then  and  there  to  open  my 
heart  to  her. 

"  Supposing  you  1 — liked  somebody  until  you 
were  almost  ready  to  die  of  it,  and  wanted  to  make 
her  a  present,  what  would  you  do  ?" 

"  I'd  make  it,"  promptly  replied  Mrs.  Blythe, 
turning  me  around  to  see  the  effect  of  her  hair- 
brush. 

"  What  would  you  give  ?"  I  asked,  anxiously — 


148 


J3RINKA  : 


for  in  the  solution  of  that  much  pondered  on  ques- 
tion lay  the  way  out  of  my  dilemma. 

"  My !  but  you  air  a  proper  nice-lookin'  boy," 
she  exclaimed,  surveying  me  at  arm's  length — the 
length  of  a  very  short,  round  arm.  Then,  drawing 
me  toward  her,  and  giving  my  hair  another  dab 
with  the  brush,  she  affirmed  that  I  would  "  do." 

"  What  would  you  give  ?"  I  asked  again. 

"  Oh,  that  aint  a  hard  one !  I'd  give  her  a  ring — 
a  Sophia  ring,"  she  affirmed,  with  a  final,  soft-handed 
pat  upon  the  bow  at  my  throat.  "  There  !  I  guess 
your  necktie  '11  lay  straight  now,"  she  digressed. 
"  I  d'  know  as  I  know  why  it  is,"  she  continued, 
looking  at  me  fondly,  "  but,  somehow,  you  oilers  do 
put  me  in  mind  of  my  own  little  boy.  I  d'  know's  he 
looked  a  morsel  like  you,  nuther ;  I  d'  know's  he  was 
nigh's  good-lookin'.  But  then  he  was  a  boy — my 
boy.  He'd  a'  ben  fourteen  now,"  she  concluded, 
with  a  chubby  sigh,  putting  a  fresh  linen  handker- 
chief in  the  breast-pocket  of  my  jacket,  carefully 
leaving  out  a  corner,  to  show  the  pretty  border. 

"  Did  you  have  a  little  boy  ?"  I  asked,  \vith  ready 
sympathy.  "  You  never  told  me." 

"  I  make  a  pint  never  to  say  nothin'  much  about 
him  to  nobody,  no  way — it's  sech  a  grievous  afflic- 
tion to  me.  He  was  lost  when  he  was  only  six 
year  old."  And  her  round  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
"  I  never  shall  fairly  get  over  it — never.  It  comes 
over  me  sometimes  to  e'en  a'most  kill  me,"  she 
added,  wiping  her  eyes  with  a  cheerful  attempt  at  a 
smile. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

"  What  was  his  name  ?"  I  asked,  full  of  sorrow 
for  her  grief. 

"  Owen — my  boy's  name  was  Owen.  His  father 
giv'  him  the  name  a'ter  his  own  father." 

"  Owen  !"  I  exclaimed.  "  Why,  I  knew  a  boy — " 
suddenly  recollecting  I  must  not  speak  of  the  Red 
House  or  its  former  occupants,  I  said  no  more, 
but  resolved  to  go  at  once  and  tell  the  Professor 
that  Zebra  (whose  real  name  Zebra  himself  had 
said  was  Owen  Ely  the)  must  be  Mrs.  Blythe's 
lost  son. 

"  Now,  let's  settle  about  the  Sophia  ring,"  she 
urged,  looking  at  me  with  the  most  cheerful  of 
cheerful  smiles,  to  my  relief  taking  no  notice  of  my 
unfinished  sentence.  "  I  always  do  my  best  en- 
deavors not  to  permit  the  equal-Abraham  of  my 
mind  to  be  disturbed  by  nothin',  but  to  preserve  the 
happy  pre-medium— for  it's  'specially  injined  on  us 
not  to  be  cast  down  by  none  of  the  afflictions  and 
trials  of  this  sub-marine  sphere,  nor  to  set  our 
hearts  on  sub-marine  things.  But  it  comes  hard 
sometimes ;  and  you  don't  know,  little  son,  what  it 
is  to  be  the  mother  of  a  darlin'  boy  and  to  lose  him 
and  not  know  whether  he's  livin'  or  dead." 

I  certainly  did  not,  and  could  only  look  my  com- 
miseration. 

"  But  not  to  digress  no  more,  we'll  chirk  up  and 
speak  in  'arnest  consarnin'  your  present.  Yes,  little 
son,  I'd  give  her  a  ring — a  Sophia  ring." 

"  What  is  a  Sophia  ring  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  it's  a — it's  true  blue." 


ISO 


BRINKA  : 


"  How  much  does  a  Sophia  ring  cost  ?  I've  got 
five  dollars.  Is  a  Sophia  ring  pretty  ?" 

"  As  pretty  as  the  little  Countess  Brinka  herself. 
You'll  see.  Come  with  me  to  my  room — come," 
urged  Mrs.  Blythe,  in  a  voice  full  of  mystery.  "  I'll 
show  you  a  Sophia  ring." 

"  How  much  does  a  Sophia  ring  cost  ?  Will  five 
dollars  buy  one?"  I  asked  again,  when  we  were  in 
her  parlor. 

Mrs.  Blythe,  still  very  silent  and  mysterious,  went 
over  to  a  high  chest  of  drawers,  and  unlocking  the 
top  drawer  took  out  from  it  a  box,  and  from  this 
box,  which  she  also  unlocked,  she  abstracted  a  neat 
little  package,  and  opening  it, showed  me  a  tiny  ring 
embedded  in  jeweler's  cotton,  with  a  blue  stone  that 
sparkled  and  blazed  like  blue  flame. 

"  There  !"  she  exclaimed,  taking  the  ring  from  the 

o  o 

box  between  her  plump  little  thumb  and  finger  and 
holding  it  up,  letting  the  light  strike  on  it  from 
various  points.  "  Aint  it  a  beauty  ?  And  it's  true 
blue." 

"  My !"  I  exclaimed,  in  admiration  of  its  brilliant 
rays. 

"  Yes !"  she  returned,  nodding  her  head  several 
times,  as  though  I  had  said  in  words  all  I  thought. 

"  My !"  I  exclaimed  again,  as  new  lights  on  it  re- 
vealed new  beauties,  making  it  look  like  something 
alive. 

"You  may  well  say  that,"  she  returned,  "for  they 
say  it's  quite  an  exceptionable  stun,  and's  wuth  e'en 
a'most  as  much  as  an  A  No.  I  watered  dimon  itself." 


AN  AMERICAN  CO UNTESS.  1 5 1 

"  How  can  I  buy  one  when  I  haven't  got  but 
five  dollars?" 

"  No  need,  little  son,  it's  freely  yourn.  Make  a 
present  on  it  to  her,  and  it'll  be  freely  hern."  And 
Mrs.  Ely  the  held  forth  the  pretty  little  inlaid  box 
containing  the  ring  for  my  acceptance. 

"  Oh,"  said  I,  shrinking  back  shyly  from  it ;  "but 
it  wouldn't  be  bought  with  my  money  !" 

"  Now  jest  listen,  little  son,"  she  returned, 
fairly  laughing  at  my  earnestness.  "  You'll  see  that 
the  Sophia  ring'd  orter  be  yourn,  and  never  mind 
the  money.  You  remember  all  about  my  poor, 
dear  old  father,  Captain  Sayres  ?" 

"  How  he  was  a  sea  captain,"  I  replied,  "  going 
all  over  the  world,  and  having  as  many  adventures 
almost  as  Robinson  Crusoe." 

"  You  don't  forgit  nothin'.  It's  some  satisfaction 
tellin'  you  things.  Well,  one  of  his  adventures  was 
about  this  very  Sophia  ring.  He  was  in  his  ship 
off  the  coast  of  the  Levant  a-comin'  from  Constan- 
tinople, when  he  see  a  little  brigantine  that  was 
tryin'  to  escape  from  the  coarse-hairs  who  was 
a-givin'  chase." 

"  The  coarse-hairs !"  I  echoed.  "  What  are 
they?" 

"  Pirates,  who  wear  long  black  hair  and  long  black 
beards.  I  reckon  their  hair  must  be  very  coarse," 
added  Mrs.  Blythe,  contemplatively,  "  or  it  stands  to 
reason  they  wouldn't  a'  ben  named  that." 

"  I've  read  stories  about  pirates,"  said  I,  "  but  I 
never  knew  they  were  called  coarse-hairs." 


152  BRINK  A  : 

"We  all  live  and  larn,"  returned  Mrs.  Blythe, 
beaming  on  me  a  smile  of  the  chubbiest  satisfaction. 
"  Well,  my  father  said  the  pirates  was  Barbary  coast 
pirates — barbarians,  you  know,  and  that — " 

"  Is  Barbary  where  all  the  barbarians  come  from?" 
I  asked. 

"  I  d'  know,  but  I  pesume  so.  Well,  and  that 
they  bein'  muscle-men — " 

"  What  are  muscle-men  ?"  I  queried. 

"  What  a  boy  for  askin'  questions  and  gainin' 
knowledge.  I  pesume  they're  men  with  enormous 
muscles.  My  father  didn't  say  what  they  was,  only 
that  they  was." 

"  They  must  have  had  muscles  like — like  the  men 
in  the  pictures  by  the  old  masters,"  speculated  I. 
"  I  saw  them  in  the  gallery  in  New  York,  when  the 
Professor  took  me — great,  black  pictures,  and  the 
men  had  e-wwmous  muscles." 

"  Quite  as  like  as  not,"  returned  Mrs.  Blythe, 
complacently.  "  Any  way,  these  muscle-men  coarse- 
hairs  come  capturin'  the  brigantine.  But  my  father's 
ship  druv  them  off,  and  the  captain  of  the  brigantine 
wanted  to  make  my  father  a  great  present  of  money, 
and  wouldn't  take  no  refusal.  But  my  father  wouldn't 
take  none  of  his  money  fur  doin'  a  good  deed.  Then 
the  captain  opened  a  ca~e  of  precocious  gems,  and — " 

"  Precocious  gems !"  I  echoed.  "  What  are  pre- 
cocious gems  ?" 

"  Jewels — '  bright  jewels  of  the  mine,'  as  Miss 
Hemans  sings.  They're  dimons  and  roobies,  and 
the  like.  The  brigantine  was  loaded  with  Smyrna 


AN  AMERICAN  CO UNTESS.  j  c  3 

figs,  bound  to  France ;  but  the  captain  dealt  in  pre- 
cocious gems,  as  well,  on  the  sly,  and  the  coarse- 
hairs  had  found  it  out,  and  that  was  what  they  was 
after.  Some  time  I'll  tell  you  jest  how  it  was  my 
father  saved  the  brigantine  and  how  the  pirates 
found  out  that  the  captain  dealt  in  precocious  gems, 
and  all  about  it.  Well,  when  the  captain  saw  that 
my  father  wouldn't  take  no  money,  he  opened  his 
case  of  precocious  gems,  as  I  said,  and  took  out  this 
very  Sophia  ring,  sayin',  '  You  refuse  my  money, 
Captain  Sayres,  but  you  can't  refuse  this  small  token 
of  our  gratitood  as  a  mementum  mory.  Give  it 
to '— " 

"  Why,  that's  on  tombstones,"  I  objected,  "  only 
it's  memento  mori" 

"  For  the  matter  of  that,  turn  or  to,  it  aint  much 
odds,  I  reckon,"  returned  Mrs.  Blythe,  musingly. 
"  Any  way,  it  means  a  keepsake  till  death  do  us 
depart.  But  to  go  on  with  my  story :  '  Give  it 
to  your  little  daughter '  (meanin*  me),  said  the  cap- 
tain/ as  a  memento  mori,  and  tell  her  that  her  father's 
an  honor  to  his  country.'  Them  was  his  very  words. 
Well,  when  my  father  got  hum  and  told  me'n  my 
mother  the  whole  circumstantial  evidence  of  the 
case,  he  gin  me  the  ring,  sayin'  the  stun  in  it  was  a 
very  exceptionable  one.  But  somehow  or  other  my 
fingers  was  too  chunky,  and  I  couldn't  git  the  ring 
on,  and  so  it  wa'n't  worn  by  me  and  never  has  ben 
wore  by  no  one.  Now,  if  all  that  don't  prove  that 
this  ring  wa'n't  intended  for  no  one  but  to  be  put  on 
the  slender  finger  of  that  dainty  little  hummin'  bird, 


BRINKA: 

Countess  Brinka,  and  put  on  her  finger  by  you,  I'd 
like  to  know  what  on  airth  it  doos  prove." 

This  logical  deduction,  uttered  in  a  tone  of  solemn 
conviction,  seemed  incontrovertible,  and  to  dissent 
from  it  quite  rude.  Still,  I  clung  to  my  first  propo- 
sition, and  said  it  wouldn't  be  like  my  giving  it  to 
Brinka  unless  I  could  buy  it  with  my  own  money 
— that  it  would  be  lik«  her  giving  it,  or  her 
father,  or  the  pirates  giving  it,  thanking  her  all 
the  same. 

Mrs.  Blythe  looked  round-eyed  at  me  and  then 
up  to  the  ceiling,  her  round  eyes  growing  more  and 
more  round  with  speculation.  Then  she  looked 
fixedly  out  of  the  windoV,  through  which  wafted  a 
delicious  odor  of  newly  mown  hay  curing  in  the 
meadows  out  in  the  July  sun. 

A  group  of  merry  little  yellow  butterflies  were 
sporting  around  the  flowers  close  by  the  window, 
and  two  of  them,  chasing  each  other,  came  zig-zag- 
ging  into  the  room. 

"I've  got  it!  I've  got  it!"  she  exclaimed,  and  I 
thought  at  first  it  was  one  of  the  yellow  butterflies 
she  had  captured,  until  I  saw  them  both  zig-zag  out 
into  the  open  air  again. 

"  I've  got  it !"  she  repeated,  with  the  chubbiest 
enthusiasm.  "  You  can  buy  the  ring  with  your  five 
dollars  fair  and  square  of  Willy  Bates  reg'lar.  We'll 
go  over  to  New  Lunnun  this  afternoon,  and  you  can 
buy  it  from  Willy  Bates,  and  then  it'll  be  yourn,  and 
no  mistake." 

"  Willy  Bates  ?"  I  repeated. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


155 


"  Yes,  little  son,  Willy  Bates  '11  sell  it  to  you,  fair 
and  square,  so  don't  look  so  struck  all  of  a  heap." 

"  Who's  Willy  Bates  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  he  lives  with  his  mother,  who  takes  in 
sewin'.  He's  a  poor  little  lame  cripple,  and  copies 
law  papers  when  he  can  git  any  to  copy.  So,  bein' 
more'n  half  a  lawyer,  you  see  he  can  sell  it  to  you 
reg'lar.  Your  five  dollars  '11  be  a  great  thing  for 
Willy  Bates,  for  they're  dreadful  poor,  and  they  can 
buy  things  with  it,  you  see." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  resistance  growing  weak  under 
such  a  weight  of  argument.  "  But,  then,  how  can 
my  five  dollars  buy  it  when  it's  worth  ever  so  much 
more  than — " 

"  Why,  don't  you  see,  little  son  ?  It'll  be  a  bargin  ; 
nobody  thinks  of  buyin'  anythin'  now-a-days  that 
isn't  a  bargin.  Bargins  is  all  the  fashion,  and  the 
first  thing  ladies  ask  when  they  go  a-shoppin'  is  how 
much  it's  ben  reduced  from.  And  ef  a  thing's  ben 
reduced  from  an  exhorbitant  high  price  down  to  a 
ridiculous  .low  price,  it  gits  snapped  up  at  onct, 
whether  they  want  it  or  not." 

I  was  convinced,  and  although  I  could  not  exactly 
understand  the  triangular  arrangement  between  Mrs. 
Blythe,  Willy  Bates,  and  myself,  that  enabled  him 
to  sell  me  something  belonging  to  her,  and  to  put  the 
money  into  his  own  pocket,  still,  such  an  accumu- 
lation of  logical  proof,  brought  forward  with  such 
an  excess  of  enthusiasm,  silenced  all  further  opposi- 
tion. 

"  When  shall  we  go  ?"  I  asked,  meekly. 


!56  BRINK  A: 

"  Right  after  dinner,  little  son,"  she  returned, 
beamingly. 

The  Professor's  sister,  Mrs.  Repsneider,  being 
from  home,  Mrs.  Blythe,  as  usual,  had  to  fill  her 
place  at  table;  and,  in  her  black  silk  gown,  so 
heavy  and  lustrous  that  it  could  have  stood  alone, 
and  which  sheathed  her  compact,  little,  round-a-bout 
form  like  the  shining  shell  of  a  chrysalis,  she  per- 
formed her  duties  in  her  chubbiest  way.  And  as 
soon  as  we  had  dined  I  found  myself  seated  by  her 
side  in  the  pony  wagon  on  our  way  to  see  Willy 
Bates. 

He  was  all  Mrs.  Blythe  had  said,  and  I  felt  sorry 
for  the  pale,  patient  cripple  and  for  his  pale  mother, 
who  looked  worn  and  hard-worked. 

Willy  Bates  seemed  quite  mystified  about  the  five 
dollars,  and  could  not  understand  his  right  to  it  nor 
the  selling  process.  But,  overwhelmed  by  Mrs. 
Blythe's  explanations,  he  did  as  she  directed,  and 
the  transaction  was  very  legal,  I  having  in  my 
jacket-pocket  the  pretty  ring,  handed  to  me  by 
Willy  Bates ;  also  a  receipt  in  black  and  white 
written  in  Willy  Bates'  fair,  round  hand  for  my  five 
dollars.  And  the  last  I  saw  of  him  on  quitting  the 
house  he  was  holding  the  crisp  bill  in  his  hand, 
studying  it  in  gentle  amazement. 


AN  AMERICAN  CO UNTESS.  1 5  7 


XVI. 

"OUR    ENGAGEMENT    RING." 

I  COULD  scarcely  wait  until  I  got  home,  with 
the  little  ring  blazing  in  my  pocket,  and  as 
soon  as  the  pony  reached  the  gate  I  was  in  the 
house,  and  the  ring  was  in  Brinka's  hands  before  Mrs. 
Blythe  had  time  fairly  to  get  out  of  the  phaeton. 

The  little  Countess  was  demonstratively  delighted 
with  her  present,  bought,  as  I  was  proud  to  feel, 
with  my  own  money. 

"  Look,  papa !"  she  exclaimed,  holding  it  up  for 
her  father's  inspection,  "  isn't  it  the  very  prettiest 
sapphire  you  ever  saw?  It's  a  real  sapphire,  just 
like  the  ones  in  Aunt  Kate's  set,  only  ever  so  much 
nicer ;  it's  no  end  of  a  lovely  ring." 

I  remained  discreetly  silent,  and  was  glad  I  had 
not  committed  myself  by  calling  it  a  Sophia  ring. 

Mr.  Vaughan,  smiling  down  on  his  little  girl,  took 
the  ring,  looking  at  it  carelessly  at  first,  then  with 
more  attention. 

"  You  are  right,  my  pet,  it  is  a  remarkably  fine 
stone,  a  very  rare  one,  and  the  setting  is  as  delicate 
a  piece  of  workmanship  as  I  ever  saw.  You  were 
very  fortunate,  Caryl,  in  coming  across  such  a 
choice  little  bijou.  Brinka,  I  see,  is  charmed  with 


I58  BRINK  A: 

it."  And  Mr.  Vaughan  looked  at  me  whilst 
addressing  me,  until  I  felt  half  frozen  under  the 
steely  gray  of  his  unsympathetic  eyes,  and  it  was 
quite  a  relief  when  his  glance  reverted  to  Brinka, 
who,  tip-toeing  and  dancing  around  the  room, 
danced  up  to  him,  demanding  her  ring.  His  eyes 
softened  as  they  fell  on  her  radiant  little  face,  as 
they  always  did  when  dwelling  on  her.  It  was  at 
all  times  a  study  to  watch  the  change  his  face  un- 
derwent from  the  introverted,  coldly  polite  look  it 
wore  when  listening  to  or  talking  with  any  one  else, 
whoever  the  person  might  be,  to  the  look  of  over- 
weening fondness  that  lighted  up  his  features  when- 
ever his  little  Brinka  was  the  one  in  question.  She 
was  always  the  bright  morning  sunshine  that  alone 
had  power  to  elicit  melodic  strains  from  the  cold 
marble  of  the  Memnonian — though  it  was  not  until 
years  later  on  that  this  much-used  classic  simile,  as 
applied  to  the  two,  occurred  to  me. 

Dancing  and  tip-toeing  still,  Mr.  Vaughan's  eyes 
following  her  airy  motions,  she  approached  me,  ring 
in  hand,  declaring  that  I  must  be  the  one  to  put  it 
on  her  finger.  And  of  her  little,  pink  digits  we 
found,  with  much  trying  and  much  laughter,  that  it 
would  fit  only  the  third  finger  of  her  left  hand. 

"  That's  a  sure  sign  of  being  engaged,"  she  ex- 
claimed joyfully.  "  It's  our  engagement  ring,  and 
we're  regularly  engaged  now.  You  know,  papa, 
Caryl  and  I  are  going  to  get  married  when  we  are 
big  enough,  aren't  we,  Caryl  ?" 

Mr.  Vaughan  smiled  on  his  darling  for  all  reply, 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS.  i  $ g 

and  I,  never  before  having  heard  the  astounding  in- 
telligence, looked  shyly  at  the  lovely  little  Countess, 
glowing  with  life  and  light  and  beauty,  as  though 
sculptured  from  flame,  but  had  no  words. 

The  Professor  just  then  came  into  the  room,  and 
the  ring  was  shown  to  him,  but  it  had  to  be  in- 
spected on  Brinka's  dainty  finger.  She  would  not 
take  it  off  for  worlds,  she  said,  for  that  would  break 
the  engagement. 

The  Professor,  pretending  much  mystification, 
asked  Brinka  some  questions  about  the  "  engage- 
ment," which  she  answered  so  directly  and  with  so 
much  simplicity,  that  my  face  burned  with  con- 
scious blushes. 

"  I  did  not  know,  Caryl,"  said  he,  turning  to  me 
as  his  eyes  fell  on  the  ring  again,  "  that  you  were 
such  a  connoisseur  in  precious  gems." 

"  There's  another  one,"  thought  I ;  "it  isn't  a  pre- 
cocious  gem  after  all."  What  I  said  aloud  was  suffi- 
ciently non-committal.  I  said  that  Mrs.  Blythe  had 
gone  to  New  London  with  me,  and  that  I  had 
bought  it  of  Willy  Bates,  who  gave  me  a  receipt 
for  it.  "  Mrs.  Blythe  said  it  was  an  exception  " — 
there  I  stopped,  afraid  of  the  penultimate  and  final 
syllables. 

"  Exceptional !"  returned  the  Professor,  "  it  cer- 
tainly is  ;  and  together  you  have  shown  exceptional 
good  taste  in  its  selection." 

"  One  more  !"  said  I  to  myself.  "  It's  #/,  and  -it 
isn't  able''  And  I  imagined  the  Professor,  who 
knew  everything,  divined  all  about  the  ring,  as  well 


l6o  BRINKA: 

as  my  unspoken  thoughts,  as  he  had  from  first  to 
last  smiled  so  significantly,  and  yet  so  pleasantly. 

The  day  came  for  Brinka  to  go.  The  carriage 
was  at  the  door,  with  Jenkins  on  the  box,  lines  in 
hand,  the  four  grays  pawing  the  ground,  anxious 
to  start.  Roberts  stood  holding  the  carriage-door 
for  Mr.  Vaughan,  and  Brinka's  maid  was  already  on 
the  front  seat  within  the  carriage,  and  had  Puck  in 
her  arms.  Brinka  having  bade  Mrs.  Blythe  (with 
whom  she  had  grown  quite  intimate)  a  last  good- 
bye, and  having  kissed  Marco  on  his  forehead  be- 
tween his  eyes,  with  her  arms  thrown  lovingly 
around  his  great  shaggy  neck  (for  with  Marco  also 
she  had  grown  quite  intimate,  he  still  insisting  on 
accompanying  me  wherever  I  went),  ran  up  to  the 
Professor  and  said  good-bye,  and  then,  nearly 
choking  me  with  an  affectionate  farewell  caress, 
flew  to  the  carriage. 

I  watched  her  pretty  face  looking  from  the  win- 
dow at  me  as  long  as  the  carriage  was  in  sight,  and 
then  I  ran  down  to  the  pond,  and  throwing  myself 
on  my  face  down  on  the  bottom  of  our  little  boat,  I 
gave  way  to  my  pent-up  grief. 

Looking  up,  on  hearing  a  lugubrious  whine,  I 
beheld  Marco  sitting  on  the  bank  close  beside  me, 
looking  immovably  at  me  with  such  an  expression 
of  sympathetic,  almost  tragic,  sorrow  in  his  great 
brown  eyes,  that  I  burst  out  laughing  in  the  midst 
of  my  grief  and  sprang  from  the  boat  to  the  bank. 
Taking  his  great  head  between  my  hands,  I  kissed 
him  on  the  black  spot  b.etween  his  eyes,  just  where 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  161 

Brinka  had  kissed  him.  He  gave  me  to  understand 
in  his  way  that  he  fully  appreciated  the  compliment, 
and  together  we  walked  mournfully  up  toward  the 
house,  my  sorrow  returning  in  full  force. 

On  the  way  we  encountered  the  Professor  coming 
toward  me,  holding  in  his  hand  an  illustrated  circus 
bill. 

"  I  was  looking  for  you,  Caryl.  Run  and  ask 
Mrs.  Blythe  to  make  you  ready  in  no  time.  I  am 
going  over  to  New  London  to  see  this,"  and  he 
shook  the  bill  in  his  hand,  "  and  I  would  like  you 
to  accompany  me." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  returned,  hesitatingly,  in  much  sur- 
prise. "  But  I  thought  you  did  not  like  to  go  to 
circuses.  I  thought  you  did  not  approve  of  per- 
forming animals  and  that.  I  heard  you  and  Mr. 
Vaughan  talking  about  it,  and — " 

"  Yes,  on  general  principles,  I  don't,"  returned 
the  Professor,  smiling  blandly.  "  But  I  have  a  great 
desire  to  see  this  especial  circus.  Barnum  is  going 
to  outdo  himself.  We  are  to  have  a  greater  number 
than  usual  of  dancing  elephants,  and  we'll  see  a 
horse  perform  on  the  tight-rope ;  and,  in  fact,  there 
are  so  many  other  attractions  offered  that  it  would 
take  too  long  to  enumerate  them.  Marco  can  go 
with  us  if  you  like.  We'll  buy  him  a  seat  beside 
us,  and  we'll  all  three  enjoy  it  immensely.  Marco 
will  behave  as  sedately  as  any  one  present — if  not 
more  so ;  and  we'll  be  in  time  for  the  afternoon 
performance,  if  you  are  ready  in  five  minutes." 

I  had  been  regarding  the  Professor  in  increasing 


!62  BKIXA'A: 

astonishment  at  his  sudden  interest  in  circus  details; 
but  finding  him  quite  in  earnest,  I  ran,  overjoyed,  to 
Mrs.  Blythe  to  be  made  ready. 

"  It's  all  jest  to  please  you,  little  son.  The  Profes- 
sor thinks  a  heap  on  you  ;  I  d'  know  as  I  ever  see 
any  one  set  more  store  by  than  he  sets  by  you. 
It's  well  we  had  luncheon  so  early  to-day  for  Mr. 
Vaughan  and  Brinka  and  them  goin'  away,  for't 
gives  you  time  to  git  to  the  grounds.  I  declare  for't, 
if  there  aint  the  Professor  a-drivin'  'round  in  the 
phaeton,  and — there,  you're  ready." 

The  circus  did  its  work,  dulling  the  poignancy  of 
my  grief  at  parting  from  Brinka ;  and  the  next  day 
the  Professor  started  with  me  on  a  sight-seeing  tour. 
We  went  up  the  Hudson  and  up  the  St.  Lawrence, 
stopping  at  Montreal,  Quebec,  and  Tadoussac.  And 
the  grand  sights  I  saw  made  me  feel,  on  viewing  the 
wonders  of  Nature,  that  small  as  I  was,  I  was  even 
smaller  than  I  had  thought  myself.  We  took  in 
Niagara  on  our  way  home,  and  its  thunders  whim- 
sically brought  me  back  to  the  starting  point — the 
circus — and  I  said  it  sounded  like  a  thousand  great 
African  lions  all  roaring  at  once. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


XVII. 

MARATHON. 

A  YEAR  had  gone  by,  and  the  one  important 
event  of  the  year  was  a  two  weeks'  visit  the 
Professor  and  I  and  Marco  made  during  our  Christ- 
mas holidays,  by  invitation  of  Mr.  Vaughan,  at  his 
elegant  mansion  in  New  York.  But  the  grandeur 
of  the  appointments  of  his  palatial  mansion  affected 
me  but  little — I  saw  only  Brinka. 

We  were,  as  we  always  had  been,  the  best  chums 
in  the  world,  with  never  a  cloud  between  us  to  mar 
our  supreme  happiness  in  each  other.  And  all  that 
assuaged  the  pangs  of  parting  was  the  understand- 
ing that  we  should  meet  again,  in  each  holiday 
season,  at  either  Brinka's  or  my  home. 

It  was  Saturday  afternoon  at  Elm  Ridge,  and  the 
boys  were  on  the  ball-ground  engaged  in  a  more 
than  usually  enthusiastic  game  of  base-ball.  Clavel 
Repsneider,  the  oldest  boy,  who  had  shot  up  into  a 
tall,  stalwart  young  fellow  for  his  seventeen  years, 
had  been  chosen  captain  of  one  of  the  nines.  The 
captain  of  the  other  side  was  Roy  Hildreth,  the 
youngest  boy  of  the  school,  except  myself,  and  four 
years  younger  than  Clavel.  But,  being  phenomenal 
at  his  lessons,  and  in  play  always  on  the  alert,  agile 
and  good-tempered,  winning  by  adroitness  where 


164  BRINK  A: 

another  boy  won  by  main  strength,  he  was  an  im- 
mense favorite  in  all  our  games. 

A  dispute  had  arisen,  and  Clavel,  never  very  gentle 
in  temper,  was  furiously  vociferating  what  he  con- 
sidered the  rights  and  wrongs  of  the  case,  his  face  as 
stormy  as  the  sky  of  a  northeaster.  Some  sided 
with  him  and  some  against  him,  when  Roy  Hildreth, 
in  his  clear,  ringing  tones,  called  out  in  high  tenor : 

"  Order,  boys !  Attention !  Let  us  hear  Captain 
Ripsnorter's  new  rules  for  the  noble  game  of  base- 
ball. He  has  been  reading  up  in  the  ancient  Greek, 
and  will  tell  you  that  it  was  one  of  the  Olympic 
games  played  at  Olympia  two  thousand  eight  hun- 
dred years  ago,  and  in  these  degenerate  times  is  not 
rightly  understood.  Hereafter  we  will  play  accord- 
ing to  Captain  Ripsnorter's  new  rules." 

Hildreth's  mocking  tone  made  all  the  boys,  ex- 
cept Clavel,  utter  shouts  of  laughter,  their  mirth 
only  redoubling  Gavel's  fuming  and  choking. 
The  Greek  allusion,  he  being  well  known  as  the 
poorest  scholar  in  the  school,  hit  hard,  and  he  took 
refuge  in  sullen  silence. 

"  Throw  the  ball  in,"  shouted  the  left-fielder  to 
Hildreth,  "  and  call  the  next  man  to  the  bat,  and  go 
on  with  the  game,  if  we're  going  to." 

The  next  man  being  Whipple,  he  went  over  to 
take  his  place,  asking  Hedrick,  who  was  pitcher,  to 
give  him  a  low  ball. 

"  Come,  now,  Whipple,  you  bat  us  a  regular  sky- 
scraper, none  of  your  daisy  cutters,"  said  the  left- 
fielder. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  ^5 

"  Oh,  you're  too  fly !"  returned  Hedrick,  with  a 
laugh.  "  Don't  you  see,  it's  no  go." 

Clavel  Repsneider,  always  difficult  to  conciliate 
when  ruffled,  was  declaring  that  either  he  or  Mr. 
Hildreth  would  have  to  discontinue  playing;  and 
that  if  Mr.  Hildreth  was  a  man  of  his  own  size,  he 
would  have  him  out;  but,  for  his  part,  he  never 
fought  with  girls. 

"  Oh,  I  say  now,"  returned  Roy  Hildreth,  with 
good  temper,  "  we've  had  enough  of  that,  you  know. 
Pick  up  the  ball,  Caryl,  and  send  it  here." 

The  ball  was  in  front  of  me,  near  Clavel,  where  it 
had  been  lying  neglected,  and  I  stooped  to  pick  it  up. 
"  Put  that  ball  down,  you  !"  yelled  Clavel,  giving 
me  a  sudden,  vigorous  kick. 

"  Shame !  shame !"  burst  from  the  boys,  as  I 
picked  myself  up. 

"  You're  a  disgrace  to  the  school;  you  deserve  to 
be  kicked  out  of  it,"  asserted  Hildreth,  standing  up 
before  Clavel. 

"  And  you're  the  one  to  do  the  kicking — or  you'd 
like  to.  But  you've  got  to  do  some  growing  first, 
my  little  boy,"  sneered  Clavel. 

"  I  shall  do  the  reporting,  anyway,  and  let  the 
Professor  decide  who'll  do  the  kicking,"  retorted 
Hildreth,  standing  as  straight  as  a  ramrod,  his  eyes 
blazing  like  two  coals  of  fire. 

"  That  for  your  reporting  !"  and  Clavel  struck  out 
at  Roy  savagely.  But  Hildreth,  quite  prepared  for 
him,  sprang  lightly  aside  and  sent  a  sharp  blow 
from  his  own  slender,  compact  fist  directly  into 


BRINKA: 

Clavel's  eye,  causing  him,  between  pain  and  blind- 
ness, to  stagger  and  nearly  fall.  Righting  himself, 
he  turned  to  the  attack  in  earnest,  with  a  scientific 
determination  to  punish  his  puny  antagonist  with  one 
fell  blow.  But  again  Hildreth,  nimble  and  watch- 
ful, his  brain  cool  and  his  sinews  as  fine-strung  as 
the  strings  of  his  own  cello,  was  ready  for  Clavel, 
who,  always  heavy  in  movement,  was  now  in  such  a 
frenzy  of  rage  that  he  had  no  control  over  himself, 
but  hit  out  at  random.  Hildreth,  at  every  point 
avoiding  him,  darted  out  his  sinewy  arms  in  such 
well-aimed,  unexpected  blows,  that  before  the  boys 
had  fairly  realized  that  it  was  not  all  play,  Clavel 
was  compelled  to  let  himself  be  led  up  to  the  house 
by  one  of  his  friends,  while  Roy  escaped  with  a  few 
bruises. 

I  was  so  intensely  interested  in  the  fight  that  I 
was  not  conscious  of  any  pain  until  I  started  to 
walk,  and  was  then  prevented  from  falling  by 
Hedrick,  who,  declaring  that  all  my  ribs  were 
broken,  called  on  Whipple  to  run  and  get  the  garden 
chair  the  scorer  had  sat  in  during  the  game.  And 
together  they  carried  me  in  state  in  the  chair  up  to 
the  house.  On  the  way  we  met  Harding  Baker  on 
horseback. 

"  Hello,  boys !"  he  called  out,  as  he  turned  and 
joined  our  procession,  "  what's  the  row  ?  What's 
happened  to  Ripsnorter?  I  saw  Phil-Buster  lead- 
ing him  to  the  house,  looking  like — Time  in  the 
primer — if  Time  ever  gets  black  eyes.  What's  up, 
Punkin  Head  ?" 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

"  Row  enough  !"  replied  Hedrick.  "  I  say,  now, 
Hard  Bake,  can't  you  sheer  off  and  not  ride  over  a 
fellow  ?  Caryl  has  had  quite  enough  for  one  bout, 
if  the  rest  of  us  haven't.  The  row  is  that  Ripsnorter 
kicked  the  Infant  here  and  stove  in  all  his  ribs  for 
him,  then  Yellow  Jacket  pitched  on  Ripsnorter  and 
smashed  his  head  and  bunged  both  his  eyes  and — " 

"  Little  Hildreth  licking  Clavel  Repsneider !"  ex- 
claimed Baker,  contemptuously.  "  Tell  that  to  the 
horse-marines." 

"  Just  what  I'm  doing,"  retorted  Hedrick,  with  a 
grin.  "  Aren't  you  on  a  horse,  and  aren't  you  as 
green  as  the  sea  ?  If  that  isn't  being  a  horse-marine, 
I  should  like  to  know  what  a  horse-marine  is." 

"  What  condition  is  Roy  Hildreth  in  then  ?"  de- 
manded Harding  Baker,  laughing  so  vociferously  at 
Hedrick's  simile,  that  his  unsteady  hand  guided  his 
horse  in  on  our  line  again. 

"  Oh,  he's  all  right !  He  came  off  with  one  or  two 
bruises  and  a  cut  on  his  lip.  He  ran  up  to  the  house 
as  fresh  as  a  rose  to  fetch  the  Professor  to  see  to  the 
Infant  here,  you  know.  He  was  scarcely  touched." 

"  No  ?"  returned  Harding  Baker,  interrogatively; 
checking  his  horse  to  keep  along  with  us. 

"  Oh,  he's  equal  to  Sullivan  any  day,"  asserted 
Hedrick.  "  It  was  a  second  edition  of  Marathon — 
Yellow  Jacket  standing  for  the  handful  of  brave 
Greeks,  and  Ripsnorter  for  the  six  hundred  thou- 
sand Persians.  The  analogy  is  complete,  you  see — 
little  Miltiades  Hildreth's  loss  being  only  one  hun- 
dred and  ninety-two  men,  which,  compared  to  the 


1 68  BRINK  A: 

two  hundred  thousand  and  odd  lost  by  the  Persians, 
whom  Ripsnorter  represents — " 

"What's  all  that  rubbish  about  Miltiades  Hil- 
dreth  ?"  interrupted  Harding  Baker,  with  a  roar  of 
laughter. 

The  crowd  of  boys  who  were  walking  along  with 
us  joined  in  the  laughter,  Muggins  declaring  that  it 
was  all  "  rot " — that  being  a  favorite  word  just  then 
in  the  school,  copied  from  young  Glencairn,  the 
nephew  of  an  English  nobleman,  who  was  one  of 
our  boys,  and  had  been  introduced  to  the  school  by 
Mr.  Vaughan,  otherwise  the  Duke  of  Chillingford. 

"  I  don't  believe  Caryl's  ribs  are  broken ;  that's  all 
bosh,"  asserted  Harding.  "Are  you  in  much  pain, 
Caryl  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Only  when  Whipple  and  Hedrick  laugh  and 
joggle  the  chair;  and  when  I  have  to  laugh,  too,"  I 
replied. 

"  I'll  take  care  not  to  laugh  any  more,"  promised 
Whipple.  "  It's  an  ugly  bruise  you've  got,  that's  all, 
for  I  don't  believe  your  ribs  are  broken." 

"  Savage  as  Ripsnorter  is  when  he's  mad,  he 
wouldn't  be  brute  enough  to  kick  as  hard  as  that," 
asserted  Harding,  with  a  contemptuous  snort  and 
curl  of  his  lip. 

"  Ripsnorter's  been  down  on  the  Infant  from  the 
word  go,"  cried  Muggins. 

"  From  the  very  first  day,"  assented  Harding. 

"  Oh !  he's  a  terror,"  declared  Hedrick.  "  He 
struck  Roy,  anyway,  before  Roy  pitched  in  and 
cleaned  him  out." 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  j^ 

"  Here  comes  the  Professor,  and  Roy  Hildreth  is 
with  him.  Now  we'll  know,"  said  Harding  Baker. 

"  Know  what  ?"  demanded  Hedrick. 

"  All  what  the  Professor's  going  to  do  about  it, 
of  course,"  returned  Harding,  "  and  whether  the  In- 
fant's ribs  are  all  smashed  in,  as  you  say." 

We  were  close  to  the  house  when  the  Professor 
and  Roy  joined  us,  the  Professor  looking  very  grave 
and  anxious.  He  had  me  carried  into  his  study  and 
laid  on  the  sofa,  and  after  a  careful  examination 
seemed  greatly  relieved  to  find  that  I  had  received 
only  a  bad  bruise.  A  few  days'  rest  and  arnica  and 
water  applications  would  be  all  I  required,  he 
affirmed,  with  one  of  his  rare  smiles.  His  smile 
went  to  my  heart  and  made  me  feel  more  than  ever 
how  much  I  was  to  him. 

"  Hooray  !"  cried  Hedrick,  "  the  Infant's  all  right, 
after  all,"  and  those  of  the  boys  who  had  followed 
us  into  the  study  gave  a  cheer  and  ran  off  out  of  the 
room,  to  see,  as  I  thought,  what  thsy  could  find  out 
about  Clavel. 

The  Professor  carried  me  to  my  room,  Roy  Hil- 
dreth alone  following.  And  Mrs.  Blythe  appeared 
with  a  pile  of  old  white  linen,  and  soon  a  pungent 
odor  of  arnica,  diluted  with  water,  pervaded  the 
room.  Roy  Hildreth  offered  to  stay  with  me,  and 
he  read  to  me  and  played  on  his  cello  for  me,  and  I 
thought  it  was  very  kind  of  him. 

"  You'll  quite  enjoy  bein'  in  bed  a  spell,  for  the 
sake  of  the  whips  and  jellies  and  blue-monge,"  said 
Mrs.  Blythe,  cheerily.  I  had  been  in  bed  a  day, 


I/O 


BR1NKA  : 


and  it  had  seemed  to  me  an  age,  in  spite  of  the, 
dainties  she  spread  around  me.  "  I  d'  know's  I 
ever  see  anything  blacker'n  your  poor  little  side, 
with  the  extra-seated  blood,  unless  it's  Clavel's 
eyes,"  she  continued.  "  And  there's  Mrs.  Rep- 
sneider,  who,  as  soon  as  Clavel  was  brought  in,  in 
that  condition,  an'  she  heerd  what  he'd  a'  ben  doin' 
to  you,  went  off  into  a  historical  fit,  and  has  ben 
havin'  historical  fits  ever  sence.  I  must  go  to  her 
this  minuet.  I've  plenty  of  nussin'  now,  and  the 
wust's  Clavel,  for  a  bear  with  a  sore  head  couldn't 
be  uglier." 

Roy  took  the  arnica  and  water  from  her  hands  as 
she  went,  and  shaking  with  laughter,  poured  a  cold 
stream  of  it  into  my  eye,  which  trickled  down  into 
my  ear ;  and  I  laughed  with  him  until  the  pain  in 
my  side  made  me  stop.  The  Professor,  just  then 
coming  in,  said  he  was  glad  to  find  us  so  merry. 

"  Mrs.  Ely  the  was  talking  of  historical  fits,"  ad- 
mitted Roy. 

"  Mrs.  Blythe  is  a  woman,"  said  the  Professor, 
mildly,  "  who  is  so  entirely  reliable,  so  rarely  con- 
scientious, and  so  thoroughly  good,  that  I  can  never 
find  it  in  my  heart  to  turn  into  ridicule  her  little 
philological  and  orthoepic  peculiarities,"  and  we  both 
felt  rebuked. 

"  I  have  just  come  from  Clavel.  He  will  not  be 
presentable  for  at  least  a  week,"  continued  the  Pro- 
fessor. "  Let  me  see  those  redoubtable  fists  of  yours, 
Roy.  Are  you  sure  they  are  made  of  flesh  and 
blood  and  bone,  and  not  of  laminated  .steel  ?  Were 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


171 


you  very  angry  when  you  were  dealing  such  steam-, 
hammer  strokes  ?  Whipple  and  Hedrick  tell  me  it 
was  all  over  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye." 

"  I  never  was  so  angry  in  my  life,  sir,"  ingenu- 
ously confessed  Hildreth,  blushing  as  he  looked  up 
from  his  viol — for  he  had  taken  up  his  cello  from 
where  he  had  lain  it  and  was  examining  its  pegs — 
"  and  I  never  moved  so  like  lightning ;  it  seemed 
as  though  some  power  urged  me  on  and  gave  me 
the  advantage.  And  I  never  saw  Clavel  so  clumsy 
— our  best  fencer,  you  know,  sir." 

"  Some  power,"  repeated  the  Professor.  "  Highly 
strung  nervous  vitality  propelled  by  the  animus  of  a 
will  working  in  earnest  has  a  singularly  subduing 
effect  over  mere  muscular  force,  however  powerful 
or  savage.  It  is  that  which  tames  lions." 

I  thought  the  Professor's  comparison  told  more 
against  his  nephew  than  Roy,  but  what  I  said  was : 
"  Hedrick  called  the  row — the  fight — a  Marathon. 
He  said  Roy  stood  for  the  ten  thousand  Greeks, 
and  Clavel  for  the  uncounted  swarms  of  Persians, 
and  that  Miltiades  Hildreth — " 

"  Did  Punkin  Head  call  me  Miltiades  ?"  asked 
Roy,  laughing. 

"  Hedrick's  is  perhaps  a  prophetic  soul.  There  is 
no  knowing,  Roy,  if  you  keep  on,  how  great  a  gen- 
eral you  may  become,"  said  the  Professor,  smiling 
dryly.  "  But  to  go  back  to  the  lions.  Every  con- 
quest of  the  lion-tamer  is  a  Marathon  in  epitome," 
and  the  Professor  gave  a  look  at  Hildreth  that 
evidently  puzzled  him. 


If 2  BRINK  A: 

"  It  is  no  wonder  the  Greeks  won  the  day,"  Roy 
declared,  fastening  his  clear,  boyish  eyes  inquiringly 
on  the  Professor's  face.  "  They  were  as  resolved,  in 
their  great  cause,  as  I  was  to  avenge  the  kick  Clavel 
gave  Caryl ;  so  they  couldn't  help  licking — I  mean 
winning.  I  saw  just  where  to  hit  and  how  to  avoid 
being  hit,  as  though  I  was  all  sight  and  fist.  And  I 
saw  that  Clavel  struck  out  at  random  just  where 
I  was  not,  and  so  I  hit  the  harder,  and  every  blow  I 
gave  went  to  the  same  spots.  I  am  very  sorry, 
Professor  Wye,  and  beg  your  pardon  for  transgress- 
ing rules  ;  but  I  am  afraid,  under  the  same  provoca- 
tion, I  should  do  the  same  thing  over  again — that 
is,  if  I  could." 

"  Before  accepting  or  declining  your  apology,  Roy, 
I  shall  have  to  satisfy  myself  on  one  or  two  points. 
But  let  me  ask  you  if  you  looked  then  as  you  look 
now  ?  Is  that  the  way  he  looked,  Caryl  ? — whilst 
on  the  battle-field,  I  mean  ?"  asked  the  Professor, 
with  the  dryest  of  his  dry  smiles. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  returned,  "  only  more  so,"  for  Hil- 
dreth's  eyes  were  gleaming  again  with  the  same 
metallic  lustre  that  had  so  fascinated  me  while  he 
was  dealing  out  his  blows. 

"  Because,  if  that,  Roy,  is  the  way  you  looked, 
'  only  more  so,'  I  can  well  imagine  you  must  have 
felt  as  though  some  '  power '  was  assisting  you. 
But  I  see  how  it  is,"  continued  the  Professor.  "  It 
is  all  of  that  bass  viol.  Those  great  chords  have 
turned  the  muscles  of  your  arms  into  steel.  You 
will  be  compelled  to  give  up  your  music,  Roy.  Those 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UKTESS.  \  -j  3 

fists  of  yours  must  not  become  any  more  highly 
tempered — the  eyes  and  noses  of  the  community  are 
in  danger ;  and  no  amount  of  sound,  however  sweet, 
can  repair  damages  or  charm  back  into  life." 

Whether,  or  not,  the  Professor's  dry  sally  were  a 
bit  of  irony  intended  as  a  joke,  Hildreth,  from  the 
puzzled  look  on  his  bright  young  face,  was  evidently 
at  a  loss  to  fathom. 

"  Is  it  not  about  time  for  Bervault  to  call  the 
classes,  sir  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  deprecatory  smile. 

"  As  you  say,  my  defender  of  the  defenseless ; 
but  look  well  to  your  fists,  Roy."  The  Professor's 
smile,  accompanying  his  words,  so  reassured  him 
that  he  caught  up  his  cap  with  a  quick  motion. 

"  I  will  come  back  again,  Caryl,  as  soon  as^  I  get 
through  with  my  French  and  German,"  said  he,  and 
with  one  of  his  droll,  boyish  looks,  he  added,  with  a 
short  laugh :  "  Then  I  may  draw  my  bow  again, 
Professor,  if  I  avoid  drawing  it  too  near  the  asses' 
bridge  ?" 

"  A  play  upon  words  at  the  expense  of  a  fallen 
foe,  however  much  he  may  merit  punishment,  is 
never  in  good  taste,  my  dear  pupil,"  said  the  Profes- 
sor, gently. 

"  I  know  it,  Professor  Wye,"  broke  in  Roy,  in  a 
burst  of  contrition.  "  I  am  always  sinning  and  re- 
penting. If  I  could  only  do  my  repenting  first,  I 
might — " 

"  There,  go,  or  Bervault  will  make  you  repent  to 
some  purpose,"  advised  the  Professor,  a  great  smile 
lighting  up  his  face. 


BRINKA: 


XVIII. 
A    NEW    NAME. 

WITH  the  passing  years  the  senior  boys 
dropped  off  one  by  one,  the  Professor,  with 
a  view  to  resigning  his  school,  taking  no  new  boys 
in  their  place.  Whipple  had  gone  into  a  law  office ; 
Glencairn,  becoming  the  Earl  of  Baysfield  through 
the  sudden  death  of  his  uncle,  had  returned  to  Eng- 
land ;  and  Clavel  Repsneider,  having  fallen  heir  to  a 
small  property  left  him  by  a  brother  of  his  father, 
had  invested  it  in  a  stylish  billiard-room  in  New 
London  for  the  accommodation  of  certain  young 
men  of  fashion,  his  partner  being  known  as  a  disso- 
lute, worthless  fellow. 

It  was  a  great  blow  to  Professor  Wye,  and  to 
Clavel's  patient,  long-suffering  mother,  who  still  re- 
mained with  us.  She  had  become  very  much  at- 
tached to  me  in  her  quiet,  gentle  way,  and  the  Pro- 
fessor's liking  for  me  had  ripened  into  a  great  affec- 
tion that  I  was  made  to  feel  at  every  turn. 

Notwithstanding  this,  and  notwithstanding,  under 
his  judicious  and  loving  care,  I  was  expanding  in 
strength  and  muscle,  and  was  becoming  well  ac- 
complished in  various  branches  of  learning,  and 
with  him  and  Roy  Hildreth  could  take  a  creditable 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS.  i  j  - 

part  with  my  violin  in  the  grand  music  I  loved, 
and  notwithstanding  Hildreth,  although  three 
years  older  than  I,  had  become  my  fast  friend — 
so  much  so,  that  he  was  dubbed  the  Jonathan  to 
my  David — still,  I  had  very  low-spirited  feelings  at 
times  about  my  former  life  with  the  desperate  gang 
of  the  Red  House  (concerning  whom  I  still  kept 
most  watchful  silence),  and  about  my  being  a  bur- 
den (as  I  worded  it  in  my  thought)  on  Professor 
Wye.  I  spent  much  time  in  racking  my  brains  to 
devise  some  way  by  which  I  might  at  least  earn  my 
own  living,  but  so  far  without  success.  I  had  never 
read  any  of  the  wonderful  stories  of  those  remark- 
able boys  who  either  trap,  sell  books,  or  go  into 
stores  to  sweep  floors ;  and  doing  the  head  and  hand 
work  of  several  men,  rise  by  their  own  prowess 
superior  to  every  occasion ;  bringing  the  envious 
evil-doer,  who  would  malignly  have  crushed  them, 
to  book  and  merited  punishment;  and  who  end  by 
saving  the  lives  of  their  employers  and  the  credit 
of  their  business,  and  are  eventually  taken  into  part- 
nership, and  marry  their  beautiful  daughters.  None 
of  this  sort  of  instructive  literature  was  floating 
around  Professor  Wye's  school. 

About  the  time  my  low-spirited  fancies  were  most 
rife,  Professor  Wye,  one  afternoon,  informed  me 
he  had  some  business  to  transact  over  in  New 
London,  in  which  I  might  be  interested  should  a 
proposition  he  intended  making  me  meet  my  ap- 
proval. 

Being  sufficiently  filled  with  curiosity  to  suit  his 


1 76 


BKIXA'A  : 


humor,  I  took  my  seat  beside  him  in  the  phaeton 
and  awaited  the  disclosure  of  his  proposition.  It 
was  a  day  of  gorgeous  beauty.  The  air  was  alive 
with  sweet  scents  and  sweet  sounds — both  flowers 
and  birds  being  bent  on  making  the  most  of  the 
time  in  which  to  sing  and  shine. 

The  robin,  blue-bird,  and  domestic  Jenny  Wren, 
intent  on  their  own  business  and  resolved  to  get 
through  with  it  before  the  chill  days  came,  took 
little  heed  of  us  as  we  passed  them  by.  The  cun- 
ning tanager  flashed  on  us  his  spots  of  scarlet 
brightness — red  signals  of  his  haste  on  some  secret 
expedition — entirely  fearless  where  his  quick  eye 
detected  no  gun. 

But  the  conversational  bob-o'-link  sat  upon  a 
fence  and  chattered  to  us  in  the  still  air  as  we  drove 
on  : 

"  Caryl,  Caryl,  hear  the  Professor,  hear  the  Pro- 
fessor, he  will  tell  you,  he  will  tell  you — "  what,  I 
could  not  catch.  And  when  he  lighted  on  another 
fence  he  had  changed  the  burden  of  his  song  and 
was  animadverting  on  ornithological  science  : 

"  Dolichonyx  orizivorons,  dolichonyx  orisivorons ! 
What  a  name !  what  a  name !  Bob-o'-link,  or 
Robert  Lincoln,  that's  our  name."  And  I  was  left 
to  conjecture  what  the  "proposition"  could  be. 

The  Professor  cleared  his  throat  and  looked  at 
me  intently.  "  My  mind,"  said  he,  "  was  as  fully 
made  up  when  you  had  been  with  me  a  year  as  it  is 
now,  seven  years  only  confirming  the  desire  that 
from  the  first  has  lain  near  my  heart.  I  have  deferred 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  \-j-j 

speaking  that  you  should  be  old  enough  to  judge 
for  yourself  with  no  bias  from  my  wishes.  You  are 
now  fourteen,  and  I  have  decided  to  wait  no  longer." 
And,  as  if  in  refutation  of  his  words,  the  Professor 
paused,  and  though  tranquil  in  manner,  with  a 
quickened  expectancy  of  look  that  showed  me  how 
much  my  decision  might  be  to  him. 

"  I  am  fourteen  years  and  four  months,  if  you 
please,"  I  amended,  with  a  laugh,  tenacious  of  each 
added  month  to  my  age. 

"  Precisely  so,"  he  returned,  his  features  relaxing 
into  a  generous  smile.  "  When  four-and-thirty 
years  are  annexed  to  your  fourteen,  when  you  are 
my  age,  you  will  feel  less  jealous  of  the  odd  months 
if  you  grow  up  to  be  like  most  folks." 

"  I  shall  not  grow  up  to  be  like  most  folks.  I 
shall  be  like  you.  You  will  never  be  ashamed  of 
growing  old,  and  neither  shall  I  ever  be." 

The  Professor  gave  me  a  keen  glance. 

"  The  possibility  of  a  refusal  to  my  proposition 
has  made  me  reluctant  to  speak,"  he  resumed.  "  The 
young  American  takes  a  pride  in  his  heritage  of  in- 
dependence," the  Professor  looked  at  me  narrowly, 
"  possessing  whole  declarations  of  it  as  his  inaliena- 
ble right,  sometimes  carrying  it  to  such  excess  as  to 
make  himself  wretched  with  morbid  fancies  about 
being  a  burden  to — parents  or  those  standing  in 
their  place.  Imagine  the  young  of  any  other  na- 
tionality thus  exercised ;  or  a  royal  Bengal  tiger 
kitten,  for  instance,  losing  appetite  because  he  con- 
sidered himself  a  burden  to  the  tiger-dam."  The 


1 78 


BJRIXA'A  : 


Professor's  eyes  were  so  kindly  and  sympathetic,  in 
spite  of  the  sarcastic  humor  in  them,  that,  whilst 
wondering  how  he  had  divined  my  secret  thoughts, 
I  felt  ashamed  of  my  doubts  and  scruples. 

"  My  dear  Caryl,"  and  the  Professor  dropped  his 
bantering  tone,  "  I  should  be  proud  and  happy  if  I 
could  have  called  you  son.  I  could  not  love  you 
more  if  you  were  in  fact  my  son.  I  understand  and 
appreciate  the  promise  in  you,  both  of  intellect  and 
heart.  Having  what  is  called  the  temperament  of 
genius,  you  have  also  tha  sensitiveness  accompany- 
ing it,  which  will  make  it  difficult  for  you  to  cope 
with  the  rough  people  and  thorny  places  of  the 
world  until  years  develop  the  necessary  moral 
strength.  What  I  wish  to  ask  is,  will  you  look 
upon  me  as  your  adopted  father,  and  yourself  as 
my  heir?  And  if  you  would  take  my  name  it 
would  greatly  please  me,  though,  as  to  that,  I  in  no 
wise  insist." 

We  were  just  then  passing  Fort  Griswold,  and  the 
monument  on  our  right,  recording  in  simple,  heart- 
moving  words  the  betrayal  and  massacre  of  the  de- 
voted men  who  so  bravely  defended  the  fort,  loomed 
up  grim  and  gray  in  the  glory  of  the  perfect  day. 
The  Professor,  taking  his  eyes  from  the  colt  he  was 
driving,  which  was  new  to  the  traces  and  was  in- 
clined to  be  skittish,  bent  them  on  me  with  a  look 
of  such  largeness  of  affection  that  on  the  moment 
my  answer  rose  up  from  my  heart  to  my  lips. 

I  told  him  I  set  no  value  on  my  father's  name, 
that  it  had  never  brought  anything  but  sorrow  to 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


179 


my  poor  mother,  and  that  I  should  be  proud  to 
bear  so  honored  a  name  as  his,  and  hoped  I  might 
prove  worthy  of  it. 

"  I  am  not,  as  you  know,  dependent  on  my 
school,"  returned  the  Professor,  with  a  gratified 
look,  "  having  started  it  for  diversion  from  a  severe 
disappointment  I  sustained  nearly  sixteen  years  ago, 
and  my  property,  though  by  no  means  princely,  is 
ample.  I  speak  of  it,  that  you  may  know  you  can  be 
no  burden  to  me  pecuniarily.  I  have  provided  for 
my  sister  abundantly,  and  have  settled  a  suitable 
maintenance  on  Clavel — more  I  should  not  feel  jus- 
tified in  giving  him,  as  he  has  turned  out.  The 
bulk  of  what  I  own  I  had  resolved  to  leave  to  you, 
in  any  case,  whether  you  acceded  to  my  request  or 
not — and  I  have  so  made  my  will." 

"  Professor  Wye,  I  had  rather  you  would  not.  I 
don't  care  for  money.  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  talk 
of  leaving  me  money  and  of  making  your  will.  I 
hope  you'll  live  to  be  a  hundred.  I  should  be  so 
old  then  I  might  not  care  so  much." 

"  Who  can  tell  ?  We  are  a  very  long-lived  race," 
returned  the  Professor,  with  a  great  smile. 

"  Does  not  Clavel  expect — will  he  not  be  disap- 
pointed when  he  knows  ?"  I  asked,  and  then  stopped. 

"  Clavel  has  never  been  backward  in  his  demands 
on  my  purse.  I  give  him  what  I  think  requisite. 
He  is  so  little  what  I  would  like  him  to  be  that  what 
he  is — impatient  of  control,  gravitating  to  the  lowest 
rather  than  the  highest — is  a  sore  subject  to  me." 

"  Does  his  mother  know — does  Mrs.  Repsneider 


1 80  BRINKA  : 

know  you  wish  me  to  be — does  she  know  what  you 
are  going  to  do  for  me  ?"  I  asked,  hesitatingly. 

"  My  sister  knows  all  my  plans  and  approves  of 
them.  She  has  worn  herself  threadbare  with  her 
grief  and  anxiety  over  Clavel ;  and  in  striving  to 
make  him  what  she  would  like  him  to  be,  seeing,  as 
she  does,  that  his  degeneracy  is  the  result  of  a  fatal 
inheritance  of  his  father's  self-seeking  nature  and  de- 
plorable lack  of  moral  rectitude.  Let  us  change  the 
subject  to  a  pleasanter  one."  And  the  Professor,  at 
my  request,  enlightened  me  on  a  metaphysical  point 
I  had  long  wished  to  solve.  His  mind  was  so  well 
stored  with  information,  and  his  conclusions  were 
so  logical  and  clearly  given,  and,  withal,  he  was  so 
genial,  that  he  was  always  a  pleasant  as  well  as  a 
profitable  companion. 

When  we  reached  Elm  Ridge  on  our  return  from 
Counsellor  Coil's  office,  where  Whipple  was  clerk, 
and  where  some  writing  and  signing  were  done,  the 
first  one  to  congratulate  me  on  my  change  of  name 
to  that  of  Wye  was  Roy  Hildreth,  whom  I  found  in 
Mrs.  Blythe's  parlor. 

"  I  d'  know's  I  ever  see  any  one  take  a  thing  so 
easy  as  you  do,  Caryl,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Blythe,  con- 
templating me  in  chubby  satisfaction. 

"  I  suppose,"  mocked  Hildreth,  "  you  would  have 
him  dance  a  hornpipe,  or  execute  the  Highland 
fling,  or  jump  over  the  house,  or — " 

"  Sakes,  no !"  disclaimed  Mrs.  Blythe,  with 
chubby  energy ;  "  I'd  have  him  preserve  the  happy 
pre-medium,  jest  as  he  doos.  I've  oilers — " 


A .  V  A  ME  RICA  .V  CO  UNTESS.  j  8 1 

"  Sic  itur  ad astra"  interpolated  Roy. 

"  I  d'  know's  I  know  what  that  means,"  resumed 
Mrs.  Blythe, "  but  I  do  know  that  it's  a  great  thing  not 
to  have  one's  equal-Abraham  upsot  by  nothin'.  I've 
oilers  noticed  that  any  one't  could  stand  prosperity 
without  bein'  overly  stuck  up,  can  bear  adversity 
when  it  comes  without  bein'  overly  cast  down.  The 
Professor's  the  best  man  under  the  sun ;  and,  Caryl, 
your  bein'  adopted  by  him's  like  the  crownin'  chap- 
ter in  a  story-book.  It  comes  jest  as  the  absolution 
of  chords  in  music  doos,  where  all  at  once't,  like  a 
clap,  after  a  mess  of  janglin'  sounds  that  drives  you 
e'en-a'most  frantic,  you  hear  a  satisfyin'  chord, 
called  the  absolution,  that  h'ists  you  clean  up  to  the 
skies — it's  sech  a  rest,  and  sech  a  delight." 

"  I  am  not  certain  but  that  ^solution  would  be 
the  better  term  for  the  freeing  of  dissonant  chords 
from  the  sin  of  discord  into  their  proper  consonant 
chord,  though  musicians  call  the  word  r^olution," 
said  I,  with  learned  conceit. 

"  What  a  thing  it  is  to  know  it  all !"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Blythe,  in  round-eyed  astonishment  at  my  eru- 
dition. "  I  d'  know's  I  know  very  much  about  the 
right  way  of  calling  much  of  anything,"  she  con- 
fessed, with  touching  simplicity,  and  a  laugh  at  her- 
self. "  But  really,  Caryl,  you're  only  fourteen,  you 
know,  and  bein'  only  fourteen,  I  d'  know  but  you'd 
ought-er  try  and  take  a  back-set  in  learnin'  for  a 
spell,  for — 

Youth's  forward  slips, 
Death  soonest  nips," 


!  82  BRINK  A  : 

as  the  sayin'  is,  and  we  couldn't  none  on  us  lose 
you,  no  how." 

If  Mrs.  Blythe  had  intended  the  most  cutting 
irony  as  a  lesson  for  my  assumption  in  correcting 
her  verbal  lapses,  she  could  not  have  made  me  more 
ashamed  of  my  egotism. 

"  Oh !"  said  I,  with  a  penitential  laugh,  "  I  think 
I  can  stand  it  without  being  '  nipped,'  as  you  have 
stood  it.  All  /  know  is  a  little  book-learning; 
while  you  know  all  that's  the  very  best  to  know." 

"  Sakes  alive  !"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Blythe. 

"  Mrs.  Blythe's  simile,"  Hildreth  had  taken  time 
to  concoct  his  speech,  "  could  be  called  the  resolu- 
tion of  the  diminished  chord  of  Caryl  Leighton, 
minor,  into  the  augmented  chord  of  Caryl  Wye, 
major." 

"  That's  the  worst  I  ever  heard,"  I  cried,  "  even 
from  you,  Roy.  It's  so  much  worse  than  mine  I 
can  take  heart  again." 

"  Was  there  ever  two  sech  boys  ?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Blythe,  at  her  chubbiest.  "And  was  there  ever 
two  sech  insuperables  ?  Where  one  is  there's  the 
other — a  regular  Damon  and  Pity-us  over  again." 


AN  AMERICAN  CO UNTESS.  j  83 


XIX. 

"  I    AM    SO    GLAD    TO   SEE   YOU." 

THE  Professor  had  resigned  his  school, "  giving  it 
up  for  good,"  Muggins  said.  Muggins,  by  the 
way,  having  outgrown  his  sobriquet,  expected  to  go 
into  his  father's  office,  his  father  being  a  lawyer  in 
New  York  of  considerable  repute.  The  Professor 
had  given  up  his  school  with  the  avowed  intention 
of  taking  me  abroad  for  six  years,  a  delight  to  me 
even  in  anticipation.  But  the  final  leave-taking 
of  the  boys  was  such  a  mournful  one  that  Mrs. 
Blythe's  sympathetic  eyes  rained  tears ;  and  al- 
though the  boys  managed  to  preserve  dry  eyes  they 
wore  dismally  long  faces ;  and  though  some  jokes 
were  attempted,  with  an  intermittent  show  of  laugh- 
ing at  them,  the  mirth  was  a  decided  failure.  Hard- 
ing Baker  (Hard  Bake)  and  Hedrick  (Punkin  Head) 
and  some  of  the  other  boys  were  going  to  enter 
college,  whilst  one  or  two  intended  going  abroad  to 
finish  their  musical  studies.  Roy  Hildreth  had  gone 
down  to  Louisiana  to  see  his  aunt  and  bid  her 
good-bye,  as  he  expected  to  go  abroad  with  the 
Professor  and  me. 

It  was  very  still  at  Elm   Ridge,  and  the  shrill 
voices  of  the  crickets,  katy-dids,  and  cicadas  during 


,  84  BRINK  A  : 

the  evenings,  and  the  notes  of  the  song-birds  by  day, 
served  to  make  the  stillness  more  palpable. 

Mrs.  Blythe  had  wiped  her  eyes  and  was  looking 
over  the  Professor's  and  my  wardrobe  preparatory 
to  our  journey.  I  was  in  her  parlor  engaged  in  the 
joint  occupation  of  copying  some  music  for  the  Pro- 
fessor, and  listening  to  her  account  of  a  voyage  to 
China  she  had  once  taken  with  her  husband. 

"  And  I  pesume,"  she  said,  after  a  vivid  descrip- 
tion of  the  natives  from  her  point  of  view,  "  their 
bein'  called  Celestials — though  I  never  could  see 
nothin'  celestial  about  them,  no  way — is  why  folks 
call  their  tea-trade  divine." 

"  Divine  ?"  I  repeated,  putting  in  a  sharp  where  I 
should  have  written  a  flat. 

"  Suttenly,"  she  insisted,  complacently.  "  Wasn't 
Whipple  and  Bervault  forever  arguin'  about  the 
divine  tea-trade — always  the  divine  tea-trade  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  said  I,  "  you  mean  tetrad,  which  signifies 
four,  you  know.  The  tetradites  believed  the  God- 
head to  consist  of  four  instead  of  three  persons — 
that  it  was  a  tetrad  instead  of  a  trinity." 

"  I  d'  know,  but  I  should  call  that  blasphemious," 
said  Mrs.  Blythe,  taking  me  up  roundly.  "  But 
there's  always  ben  beliefs  and  superstitions,  and  I  d' 
know  as  they'd  orter  be  held  accountable." 

Being  only  a  few  months  over  fourteen,  and 
proud  of  my  knowledge,  I  went  into  a  learned  dis- 
quisition upon  the  mystic  number  four.  I  explained 
its  significance  in  geometry,  pedantically  squaring  the 
circle  for  her.  I  then  explained  the  significance  of 


A.V  AMERICAN  COU.VTESS.  jg^ 

the  tetrad  in  ancient  architecture  and  in  ecclesias- 
tical history  and  Grecian  chronology ;  and  I  was  en- 
tering scientifically  on  the  fours  of  botany,  when, 
finding  I  had  been  drawing  all  over  the  Profe'ssor's 
music  with  my  pen,  broken  columns,  arches,  con- 
soles, and  various  other  devices,  in  the  enthusiasm 
of  my  dissertation,  I  came  to  a  sudden  pause,  and 
taking  a  fresh-ruled  sheet  I  began  my  copying 
anew. 

"Amongst  the  mystic  fours,  as  you  call  them, 
Caryl,"  said  Mrs.  Blythe,  with  a  laugh,  "you 
haven't  said  nothin'  about  four-leaved  clovers,  and 
there's  always  ben  a  superstition  about  them.  And  I 
d'  know  but  I  feel  quite  set  up  myself  if  I  happen  to 
find  a  four-leaved  clover,"  and  Mrs.  Blythe  laughed 
again. 

To  think  all  the  erudition  I  had  been  pouring 
forth  should  end  in  a  four-leaved  clover !  Echoing 
Mrs.  Blythe's  laugh,  I  was  saying  that  from  the  an- 
tiquity of  the  superstition  the  four-leaved  clover 
might  be  called  a  divine  tetrad,  when  I  heard  a 
voice  I  knew  well,  call  out  in  the  sweetest  of  musi- 
call  tones :  "  Where  is  he  ?  Where  shall  I  find 
him?" 

I  rushed  to  the  door  in  such  haste  that  I  over- 
turned the  table  on  which  I  had  been  noting  music, 
and,  not  stopping  to  listen  to  Mrs.  Blythe's  excla- 
mations over  the  spilled  ink,  I  reached  it  in  time  to 
sec  the  owner  of  the  sweet  voice  enter  the  great  hall 
from  the  veranda. 

She  came  toward  me  with  the  swiftness  and  light- 


1 86  BRINK  A  : 

ness  of  a  fawn,  or  a  very  graceful  girl,  who  was 
almost  a  young  lady,  and  who  had  not  yet  studied 
to  be  conventional. 

"  O  Caryl,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you !"  she  ex- 
claimed, throwing  her  arms  around  my  neck  in  her 
old  way  and  kissing  me,  as  she  had  always  done 
when  we  met. 

"And  I  am,  oh,  so  glad  to  see  you !"  I  replied, 
returning  her  caress  in  the  abandonment  of  my  joy 
at  seeing  her  again  after  an  absence  of  nearly  two 
years.  The  moment  after  I  was  shy  and  afraid  of 
her,  she  had  so  grown  in  those  two  years. 

"  O  Brinka !"  I  cried,  "  you  are  so  tall  and  so 
slim  and  straight,  and  so — so  awfully  pretty,  and  so 
— I  scarcely  know  you." 

I  was  quite  overcome  with  delight  and  with  bash- 
fulness,  and  I  scarcely  knew  what  I  was  saying.  ' 
But  I  talked  on  :  "  It  was  so  good  of  you  to  come," 
and  then  I  asked :  "  When  did  you  get  back  from 
Chillingford  Castle  ?  and  who  is  with  you  ?  Come 
in  here;  Mrs.  Blythe  will  be  overjoyed  to  see  you." 

"  I  have  only  been  back  from  England  a  day," 
she  replied,  with  a  laugh,  "  but  I  would  not  let  papa 
rest  until  he  had  brought  me  here  to  see  you  ;  and 
it  is  surely  I,  myself — behold  the  proof!"  and  she 
drew  off  a  dainty  little  glove  from  her  left  hand  and 
displayed  the  sapphire  ring  blazing  on  her  third 
finger,  where  I  had  put  it  over  six  years  before. 
And  if  I  have  grown  tall  and  slim  you  have  grown 
tall  and — so  changed,  Caryl !"  and  she  held  me  off 
at  arm's  length,  looking  at  me  with  her  dark,  re- 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

splendent  eyes,  and  while  she  was  looking  at  me  I 
was  admiring  her. 

We  found  Mrs.  Ely  the  and  Sarah,  the  waiting- 
girl,  busy  in  cleaning  up  the  ink  I  had  upset. 

"  There !  it's  all  up  as  good  as  though  it  hadn't 
ben  spilled,  so  don't  worry,  Caryl  " — I  had  not 
thought  of  worrying — "I  do  declare!"  exclaimed 
the  good  lady,  for  the  first  time  looking  up  and  see- 
ing the  little  Countess  Brinka.  "  No  wonder  you 
upsot  the  ink.  I  d'  know  but  I'd  'a'  spilt  a  gallon 
of  it."  And  Mrs.  Blythe  sprang  up  from  her  knees 
as  swiftly  as  a  young  girl,  and  welcomed  Brinka  as 
warmly  as  though  she  were  her  own  child,  instead 
of  being  a  countess  just  from  England. 

"  Papa  is  with  Professor  Wye,  Caryl,"  said  Brinka, 
after  talking  a  few  moments  with  Mrs.  Blythe. 
"  You  must  come  with  me  and  pay  him  your  re- 
spects; he  is  very  punctilious  about  those  things. 
Miss  Fitch — my  governess,  you  know — is  with  us, 
and  Annie,  too.  Papa  said  I  must  bring  my  maid ; 
it  was  a  condition.  She  has  Puck  in  her  keeping. 
Poor  Puck  is  growing  old." 

I  accompanied  Brinka  to  the  drawing-room,  not 
caring  to  see  either  Mr.  Vaughan  or  Miss  Fitch, 
but  "  noblesse  oblige"  and  I  went  through  the  formal 
meeting,  encountering  Mr.  Vaughan's  steely,  blue- 
gray  eyes,  and  heard  him  say  to  me  that  I  had 
grown  almost  out  of  all  recognition,  and  to  Pro- 
fessor Wye,  when  Brinka,  Miss  Fitch,  and  I  were 
talking  together : 

"  A  fine  lad,  truly,  Professor." 


l88  BRINKA: 

Marco,  who  had  recognized  Brinka  with  demon- 
strations of  joy,  was  pleased  to  remember  also  Mr. 
Vaughan,  and  finally  Puck,  condescending  to  him 
with  great  friendliness. 

Presently  we  went  out  in  the  garden,  Miss  Fitch, 
Brinka,  Marco,  Puck,  and  I.  And  Miss  Fitch, 
having  picked  up  a  book  in  the  drawing-room, 
seated  herself  in  the  summer-house  under  the  great 
elms  and  went  to  reading,  whilst  Brinka  and  I  wan- 
dered on  down  by  the  brook. 

"  I  received  your  letter,  Caryl,  saying  you  were 
going  abroad.  It  reached  Chillingford  just  as  papa 
and  I  were  ready  to  start  for  New  York.  When  do 
you  go  ?" 

I  replied  that  we  were  to  start  in  two  weeks. 

"  We  are  going  to  stay  here  a  week,  perhaps  two. 
Have  you  been  studying  hard,  Caryl,  these  two 
years  ?" 

"Awfully  hard,"  I  replied. 

"  And  so  have  I,  but  hardest  of  all  at  music.  I 
will  sing  for  you  this  evening." 

"And  I  will  play  your  accompaniments,"  I  re- 
turned. "  I,  too,  have  been  working  hardest  of  all 
at  my  music.  And  I  have  written  some  sonatas — 
Professor  Wye  says  they  have  some  ideas  in  them. 
He  has  had  them  published — though,  to  tell  the 
truth,  they  do  not  sell  very  well,"  said  I,  with  a  con- 
scious laugh.  "  Nobody  seems  to  want  that  kind  of 
music.  But  I  will  give  you  a  copy  of  each,  if  you 
think  they  are  worth  taking  with  you." 

"  I  should  like  them,  and  I   will   learn  them.     I 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

know  they  are  nice.  You  may  depend  upon  it, 
Caryl,  the  reason  they  do  not  sell  is  because  they 
are  not  foreign  compositions." 

"  When  I  get  abroad  I  will  publish  my  music  in 
Germany;  then  it  will  be  foreign,  and  then  it  will 
sell,  I  suppose,"  said  I.  "  I  am  afraid,  though,  my 
sonatas  are  not  very  good.  I  think  they  are  meagre 
and  thin.  They  sound  very  flat  in  comparison  with 
— with  Mozart's,  for  instance." 

"  Oh  !  Mozart's  !  Why,  you  could  not  expect  to 
write  like  Mozart.  What  style  are  they?"  asked 
Brinka. 

"  Somewhat  sad — something  like  some  of  de- 
menti's, only  not  nearly  so  good,  of  course — not 
nearly  so  masterly.  But  I  shall — I  shall  yet  write 
masterly ;  you  will  see." 

"  Of  course  you  will.  Of  course  I  shall  see,"  said 
Brinka,  assuringly.  "  You  are  only  fourteen  now, 
you  know,  Caryl." 

"  Fourteen  and  five  months,"  I  returned,  always 
proud  of  the  additional  months. 

"  And  I  am  thirteen,  and  I  have  never  had  a  mu- 
sical idea — good  for  anything.  But  I  can  sing. 
Carlo  Bassini  and  Picini  both  say  I  shall  make  a 
wonderful  singer,  and  I  am  going  to  study  with 
Lamperti,  in  Milan." 

"  You  always  could  sing,"  I  said,  "  like  a  mavis — 
not  that  I  know  how  a  mavis  sings — though  I  shall 
some  day,  when  I  go  abroad.  But  I  have  heard  a 
lark  sing,  and  you  sing  just  like  a  sky-lark." 

We  wandered  on  and  talked  of  our  studies,  com- 


BRINKA: 

paring  notes.      Brinka  told  me  of  the  eccentricities 
of  Dr.  Agaric,  who  was  a  professor  of  languages. 

"  He  went  with  us  to  England,  and  was  at  Chil- 
lingford,  and  returned  here  with  us.  He  is  fearfully 
strict,  and  I  must  know  my  lessons  perfectly.  But, 
then,  languages  are  easy,  you  know;  when  you  have 
learned  one  the  rest  all  come." 

I  assented,  with  the  assertion,  once  more,  that  of 
all  my  studies  I  loved  music  best. 
,  "  You  know  so  much,  Caryl,"  she  averred,  "  and 
are  so  tall  and  so  strong  for  a  boy.  I  am  proud  of 
you  as  far  as  you  have  gone.  But  you  are  not  fin- 
ished, you  know." 

"  And  I  may  not  get  finished  off  as  well  as  I  be- 
gan," I  said,  with  a  laugh,  admiring  Brinka's  quaint 
speech. 

I  had  a  very  happy  two  weeks.  Brinka  sang  for 
us,  with  a  penetrating,  fresh  young  voice  that  had 
been  carefully  trained  and  never  overtaxed.  She 
§ang  so  easily  and  with  such  pure  tones  it  was 
always  a  delight  to  hear  her. 

.  In  our  walks  or  rides  or  drives  Miss  Fitch  was 
always  with  us,  and  frequently  the  Professor  and 
Mr.  Vaughan.  But  Miss  Fitch  was  pleasant  and 
unobtrusive,  and  so  fond  of  reading  she  was  never  a 
restraint  upon  us. 

.  We  settled  our  plan  of  correspondence  for  the  six 
years  I  expected  to  be  abroad,  and  Brinka  was  cer- 
tain we  would  meet  again  in  Italy,  as  she  was  to 
spend  three  or  four  years  in  Milan  with  her  father, 
studying  with  Lamperti. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  ,Jgl 

When  the  time  of  parting  came  it  was  just  as 
much  of  a  heart-break  to  me  as  ever.  And  when 
Jenkins  drove  off  with  Roberts  beside  him,  I  saw  of 
those  in  the  carriage  only  Brinka,  as  she  waved  me 
an  adieu  with  her  pretty  lace  kerchief,  her  dark  eyes 
looking  large  and  sad. 

Roy  Hildreth  returned  that  afternoon,  and  the 
next  day  we  sailed  for  Liverpool,  and  in  change  of 
scene  I  grew  more  reconciled. 


192 


BR1NKA. 


XX. 

AN    UNEXPECTED    DISCOVERY. 

WE  had  been  a  little  more  than  six  years  abroad, 
my  adopted  father  and  I,  Roy  Hildreth  ac- 
companying us.  Marco,  dignified  and  orderly, 
never  obtrusive,  still  attaching  himself  to  me,  was 
also  of  our  party.  HJ  quite  distinguished  himself 
by  saving  the  life  of  one  of  the  scions  of  an  Aus- 
trian nobleman  on  a  yachting  excursion  in  the 
Mediterranean  during  a  high  sea — the  feat  being 
performed  through  great  peril  to  himself.  Professor 
Wye,  with  several  other  savants,  had  been  invited  on 
the  excursion  by  th2  Austrian  noble,  and  Roy  and 
I,  who  accompanied  him  (though  not  in  the  capacity 
of  savants),  witnessed  the  exploit.  Marco,  as  a  re- 
ward, had  a  ceremonious  presentation  of  a  gold 
collar  set  with  emeralds,  worn  on  occasions  and 
most  becoming  to  his  leonine  coat. 

Mrs.  Blythe  and  Mrs.  Repsneider  during  our  pro- 
tracted absence  reigned  supreme  at  Elm  Ridge, 
Clavel,  in  following  out  his  own  devices,  having 
given  his  mother  additional  cause  for  sorrow  by  his 
total  neglect  of  her. 

Making  the  most  of  our  time,  we  had  been  pre- 
sented at  courts  and  had  conversed  with  crowned 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  Io^ 

heads,  finding  them  much  the  same  as  other  heads. 
We  had  seen  the  peasants  of  water-soaked  Holland 
walk  on  stilts,  and  also  highly  important  personages 
of  many  other  countries  walk  on  stilts,  with  no  mud 
as  a  pretext.  We  had  been  frozen  among  Norwe- 
gian and  Siberian  steppes,  and  thawed  out  again  in 
the  sandy  region  of  the  Pyramids  and  Needles  ;  and 
farther  down  the  Dark  Continent  had  shaken  hands 
with  Gordon  in  Soudan.  The  ghostly  Black  Forest 
of  Germany  we  had  found  more  wierd  and  more 
suggestive  of  all  kinds  of  possibilities  than  any  pic- 
ture of  it 'by  pen  or  brush  ever  painted ;  and  our 
sail  down  the  shadowy  Rhine,  upon  one  of  the  most 
gorgeous  days  conceivable,  inspired  Roy  and  me  to 
commence  writing  each  a  description  of  it,  that, 
luckily  for  the  reading  public,  have  never  been  fin- 
ished. We  made  no  attempt  in  describing  the  grand 
works  of  ancient  art  in  Italy,  in  which  devoted  land, 
just  freed  from  the  Austrian  yoke,  we  lingered  two 
of  our  six  years  abroad. 

We  were  at  a  tiger  hunt  in  Hindostanese  jungles, 
but,  contrary  to  the  experience  of  most  amateur 
tiger  hunters,  shot  no  big  cats.  At  the  stupendous- 
ness  of  the  Himalayas  we  were  duly  struck  dumb ; 
and  in  exploring  the  buried  cities  of  Herculaneum 
and  Pompeii  were  filled  with  awe  and  admiration. 
We  witnessed  the  intelligence  of  the  St.  Bernard 
dogs  of  the  Alps,  who  recognized  a  friend  and 
brother  in  Marco.  And  whilst  traversing  trje  Holy 
Land,  had  taken  the  regulation  swim  in  the  Dead  Sea. 
From  thence  we  had  ridden  across  the  Arabian 


BRINKA: 

Desert  on  camels ;  and,  in  short,  had  conscientiously 
"  done  "  the  entire  Eastern  Hemisphere. 

I  found  time  to  pursue  my  studies  under  Profes- 
sor Wye's  guidance,  but  Hildreth,  with  a  shrug  of 
his  well-formed  shoulders,  declared  that,  for  his 
part,  having  climbed  the  tree  of  knowledge  to  a  safe 
height,  where  he  could  recline  at  ease  and  digest 
the  fruit  at  his  leisure,  he  feared  growing  dizzy  and 
losing  his  foothold  should  he  attempt  the  branches 
more  difficult  of  access. 

The  Professor  gave  him,  for  all  reply,  one  of  the 
pleasantly  serious  smHes  that  were  among  the  many 
secrets  of  power  he  possessed,  in  drawing  all  natures 
in  affection  toward  himself,  and  in  swaying  them 
through  their  best  feelings.  And  Hildreth  lounged 
our  leisure  hours  away,  spending  much  time  in 
manufacturing  brilliant  puns  with  which  to  scourge 
me  for  my  industry. 

And  in  all  the  six  years  I  was  abroad  I  had  not 
once  met  Brinka.  She  was  nearly  four  years  of  the 
time  sojourning  with  her  father  in  Milan,  studying 
diligently,  she  wrote  me,  with  Lamperti.  But  when 
we  reached  Milan  she  had  just  left,  assigning  a;  the 
cause  that  some  great  rise  or  fall  (she  did  not  re- 
member which)  in  stocks  called  her  father  suddenly 
to  New  York — a  flimsy  enough  excuse,  or  reason, 
of  Mr.  Vaughan's,  I  thought,  but  Brinka  seemed  to 
believe  in  it. 

We  .had  been  at  home  but  little  over  a  week, 
when,  having  some  business  to  transact  in  New 
London,  Roy  and  I  had  gone  over  on  horseback. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  ^ 

It  was  one  of  those  hot,  hazy  days  in  the  latter 
part  of  August,  when  all  Nature,  subdued  to  the 
hush  of  an  approaching  storm,  is  waiting  only  for 
the  sudden  change  of  wind  that  shall  start  the  still- 
ness into  raging  tempest.  The  whole  sweep  of  the 
firmament,  from  zenith  to  horizon,  was  loosely  hung 
with  mischievous-looking  clouds  in  clearly  defined 
corrugations,  known  by  sailors  as  a  mackerel  sky, 
while  a  dense  black  belt  edged  the  horizon  in  the 
northwest. 

We  rode  past  Clavel  Repsneider's  stylish  billiard- 
room  on  our  way  from  the  bank,  and  the  whole  in- 
terior, with  its  gaudy  trappings,  was  thrown  into 
full  relief,  the  screen  having  been  removed  from 
before  the  door,  evidently  for  coolness.  From  a 
peculiar  effect  of  light,  as  though  the  sun  were  am- 
plified and  spread  over  the  whole  surface  "of  the 
sky,  and  gleaming  from  all  points  with  a  yellow 
radiance  through  chinks  of  mottled  cloud,  every 
object  in  the  spacious  room  was  tinged  with  a  sug- 
gestively sulphurous  hue. 

Clavel,  always  striking  in  looks,  with  a  bullying, 
boastful  grace,  was  standing  in  front  of  the  bar,  tri- 
fling in  a  swaggering  way  with  a  pretty  girl  in  wait- 
ing, who  seemed  nothing  loath  to  accept  his  atten- 
tions. The  row  of  billiard-tables,  occupying  one 
side  of  the  large  room,  was  filled  with  men  in 
couples,  in  close-fitting  costumes,  who  were  too 
energetically  engrossed  in  the  game  they  were  play- 
ing to  observe  anything  going  on  around  them. 
Several  of  the  fast  young  men  of  the  city  were  idly 


196  BRINKA: 

lounging  around  the  room,  and  one  man,  evidently 
a  stranger  to  the  rest,  was  standing  at  the  bar  look- 
ing, over  the  glass  he  held  to  his  lips,  at  the  rest  of 
the  company.  He  was  of  medium  height  and  com- 
pactly built,  quick  and  free  in  movement,  with  a 
clean-shaven  face  and  a  pair  of  peculiarly  keen 
black  eyes. 

"  I  should  not  like  to  make  that  man  at  the  bar  my 
enemy,  and  encounter  him  alone  on  a  dark  night," 
remarked  Roy,  as  we  walked  our  horses  past. 

"  He  has  the  most  sinister  eyes  I  ever  saw,"  I  re- 
turned, "  and  I  have  certainly  met  him  before  some- 
where. He  brings  up  very  unpleasant  recollec- 
tions." And  I  fell  to  wondering  who  he  might  be. 

"  You  have  undoubtedly  met  him  with  Clavel," 
sneered  Roy.  "  That's  the  style  of  his  associates." 

Having  crossed  the  ferry,  we  rode  on,  now  at  a 
quick  pace,  for  a  fresh  southerly  breeze  had  sud- 
denly sprung  up  and  was  driving  the  clouds  in 
whirling  masses  before  it.  I  enjoyed  the  turbulent 
sky-scape  with  all  there  was  of  the  artist  in  me. 
The  dense  black  belt  edging  the  horizon  in  the 
northwest  had  broadened  and  deepened  until  the 
greater  part  of  the  sky  was  covered  as  with  a  pall, 
whilst  the  vividness  and  hurry  of  the  lightning,  with- 
in the  night-black  clouds,  as  a  pyrotechnic  display, 
was  something  grand. 

"  It's  more  like  the  tropics  just  before  the  tornado 
bursts  than  anything  that  belongs  to  this  region," 
exclaimed  Roy.  "  But  we  shall  be  drenched  unless 
we  find  shelter — the  squall  is  close  upon  us." 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


197 


"  There's  the  haunted  house  standing  invitingly 
open,"  said  I ;  "  not  that  I  mind  a  wet  jacket.  But 
you,  inheriting  so  bountifully  as  you  do  from  Attica 
of  her  salt — the  vaunted  sal  atticum — you  might  dis- 
solve, you  know." 

"Pro  confesso"  mocked  Hildreth.  "My  moods 
are  often  melting,  yours  never.  The  sal  atticum  you 
inherit  being  rock  salt,  you  are  invulnerable.  Here 
come  the  big  drops  now.  We'll  go  in  and  wake  up 
the  ghosts." 

Laughing,  I  followed  him  into  the  tumble-down 
out-building  back  of  the  old  ruin,  where  we  left  our 
horses  tethered  to  the  empty  stalls  of  the  old  stable, 
leaving  them  whinnying  dismally — Roy  declared 
from  fear  of  the  ghosts. 

Every  town  throughout  the  world  has  its  haunted 
house.  Ours,  situated  in  the  hollow  about  midway 
between  Fort  Griswold  and  Professor  Wye's,  was  of 
the  most  blood-stained  and  traditional  stamp,  and 
had  been  left  to  go  to  decay,  the  terror  of  the  super- 
stitious. 

"  I  wish  I  could  recollect  when  and  where  I  saw 
that  man ;  his  face  haunts  me,"  said  I,  as  we  entered 
the  house. 

"  Perhaps  the  ghosts  will  reveal  him  to  you.  For 
myself,  I  should  rather  be  haunted  by  the  face  of 
some  lovely  she,"  mooned  Hildreth. 

"  Oh  !  you've  only  to  return  in  imagination  with 
Goethe  to  the  land  where  the  citron  grows  and  the 
golden  orange  glows,  to  see  a  whole  procession  of 
her  dark-eyed  daughters,  about  whom  you  raved  so 


jgg  BRINKA: 

incessantly  whilst  we  were  there.     I  wonder,  by  the 
way,  how  you  got  away  from  them  so  scot-free." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't.  That  last  one  in  Rome — our 
padrone's  pretty  daughter  with  the  resplendent  eyes, 
who  sang  so  divinely,  and  who,  by  the  way,  sang  at 
you  and  looked  at  you  exclusively,  I  never  shall  re- 
cover from." 

"  That's  what  you  said  of  Nisida,  the  pretty 
fioraja,  in  Naples,  who  had  even  more  resplen- 
dent eyes  than  the  padrone's  lovely  daughter, 
and  who  certainly  looked  at  no  one  but  you,  with 
her  l  Favorisca  signore ;'  and  after  you  had  bought 
out  her  entire  stock  of  flowers,  her  '  Mille  grazie, 
signore' — never  varying  her  greeting  and  parting 
salutation." 

"  Yes,  I  always  bought  her  flowers  just  to  have  a 
fair  look  into  her  wonderful  eyes.  My  case  is  hope- 
less." 

"  You  said  the  same  at  least  two  dozen  times  of 
as  many  Nisidas,  Beatrices,  Editas,  Giulias — " 

"Did  I?  Then,  after  all,  there'may  be  some 
hope  for  me.  But,  quick,  stand  back  !"  Hildreth 
exclaimed,  moving  hastily  from  the  window.  "  What 
can  bring  Clavel  here,  I  wonder?  And,  if  I  am  not 
much  mistaken,  that  mysterious  man  also — shadow- 
ing him  like  a  detective.  What  can  it  mean  ?" 

Glancing  through  the  window  I  beheld,  sure 
enough,  Clavel  coming  directly  toward  the  house 
we  were  in,  and  several  rods  behind  him  the  very 
man  who  had  so  attracted  my  attention  in  his  saloon. 

"  Let  us  go  up-stairs,"  said  I.     "  They  may  be  in 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

here  upon  us,  and  the  meeting  will  be  anything  but 
pleasant." 

We  had  but  little  more  than  mounted  the  crazy 
staircase  to  the  second  floor,  when  Clavel  entered 
the  house,  stamping  his  feet  vigorously  to  shake  the 
wet  from  his  clothes,  for  the  rain  was  now  coming 
down  in  torrents. 

Clavel-' s  voice  rang  out  strong  and  clear  above  the 
wind- gusts  as  the  other  man  entered. 

"  You  followed  me  too  closely,"  said  he.  "  We 
might  have  been  observed." 

"  Trust  me  for  that,  I  know  all  about  that  sort  of 
thing.  I  only  just  kept  you  in  sight,"  was  the 
dogged  reply,  in  tones  that  smote  on  my  ear  like  the 
memory  of  a  voice  in  a  half-forgotten  night-mare 
dream. 

Clavel  then  began  swearing  roundly  at  the  rain 
and  at  the  shaky,  leaky  old  house,  declaring  that 
anyway  they  need  be  in  no  fear  of  eaves-droppers,  as 
it  had  the  reputation  of  being  haunted. 

Marco  was  looking  up  in  my  face  and  utter- 
ing a  series  of  low  growls  as  their  steps  receded 
with  heavy  tread  into  the  inner  rooms  of  the  house. 
And  in  the  crash  and -roar  of  the  momently  increas- 
ing storm  we  could  distinguish  nothing  more  of 
what  they  were  saying.  The  lightning  was  inces- 
sant, and  the  heavy  peals  of  thunder  followed  each 
other  in  such  rapid  succession  there  was  scarce  a 
pause  between  them,  whilst  the  wind  blew  so  fiercely 
that  the  old  house  shook  and  tottered  as  though 
each  moment  it  must  come  down. 


200  BRINKA : 

"  I  would  give  something  to  know  the  business 
that  brings  Clavel  and  that  evil-looking  man  here," 
said  Hildreth,  with  a  puzzled  look. 

"  Eaves-dropping,  to  take  up  Clavel's  word,"  I  re- 
turned, "  as  a  means  of  arriving  at  useful  information, 
though  not  esteemed  a  very  exalted  proceeding — " 

"  That  depends  upon  the  height  from  which  you 
eaves-drop,"  Roy  affirmed,  with  a  light  laugh  and  a 
look  of  careless  humor  in  his  eyes.  "  We  being  a 
story  above  them,  for  instance,  could  eaves-drop 
from  a  high  stand-point,  you  see." 

"  You  are  the  most  absurd  fellow  in  the  world, 
Roy,  as  I  have  said  a  thousand  times  before.  But, 
high  or  low,  as  there  is  no  other  alternative,  I  am 
determined  to  find  out,  if  possible,  who  that  man  is, 
and — " 

"All  right,  my  dear  fellow,"  interrupted  Roy, 
airily.  "  You  do  the  investigating,  and  I  will  re- 
main here  and  hold  Marco.  If  we  all  three  went 
we  might  drop  down  through  on  their  heads,  you 
know,  which  would  be  more  eaves-dropping  than 
we  bargained  for,  as  this  is  the  ricketiest  old  castle 
I  ever  was  in." 

-  I  penetrated  through  room  after  room  of  the  old 
ruin  until  I  came  upon  the  sound  of  voices  in  high 
dispute,  ascending  through  chinks  in  the  broken 
floor,  and  through  the  same  apertures  I  could  see 
their  figures.  Clavel  was  gesticulating  with  much  en- 
ergy, his  mouth,  with  its  full  lips,  that  always  seemed 
to  possess  more  muscles  than  mouths  in  genera!, 
taking  all  kinds  of  curves  and  angles,  in  the  evident 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  2OI 

endeavor  of  enforcing  terms  on  his  companion, 
though,  through  the  lulls  of  the  blasts,  I  could  catch 
only  here  and  there  such  fragmentary  sentences  as, 
"  You're  too  exhorbitant;"  "  Out  of  all  reason !"  in- 
terlarded with  a  plentiful  sprinkling  of  oaths. 

But  it  was  the  other,  with  his  erect,  springy  gait, 
his  coily,  undulating  movements,  a  certain  compres- 
sion of  lips  and  glitter  of  eyes,  that  fascinated  me 
spell-bound,  carrying  me  back  fourteen  years  of  my 
life  to  the  Red  House,  and  bringing  back  the  old 
dread  of  my  wretched  childhood.  And  I  felt  con- 
scious of  a  weight  on  my  heart  and  a  foreboding  so 
heavy  as  might  well  presage  the  most  terrible 
calamity  of  my  life,  about  to  befall  me. 

Whilst  striving  to  catch  some  connected  clue  to 
the  conversation,  which  the  fierce  howlings  of  the 
wind  and  the  heavy  cannonading  of  the  thunder- 
peals interrupted,  a  contemptuous  curl  of  his  hand- 
some mouth,  an  intenser  glitter  of  his  black  eyes, 
and  an  angry,  characteristic  toss  backward  of  his 
head,  with  the  well-remembered  mocking,  mirthless 
laugh,  revealed  in  a  flash  to  me  his  identity  with  no 
other  than  Nancy  Redwood,  herself,  dressed  as  Sam 
Bo  wen  had  intimated,  in  male  attire. 

I  was  now  upward  of  twenty-one  years  old,  and 
had  not  seen  her  since  I  was  seven.  But  I  could 
not  be  mistaken.  Her  red  hair,  dyed  black,  was  cut 
short  and  jauntily  arranged ;  but  the  face  was  her 
face,  and  the  laugh,  like  no  other  laugh,  would  have 
revealed  her  to  me,  if  nothing  else,  it  was  so 
indelibly  graven  on  my  memory. 


202  BR1NKA  : 

I  was  so  stunned  by  the  suddenness  of  the  recog- 
nition that  I  staggered  backward,  and  would  have 
fallen,  had  I  not  brought  up  against  the  crumbling 
chimney-jamb  which  I  grasped  for  support.  Re- 
covering myself  by  an  effort,  in  my  desire  to  know 
more,  I  resumed  my  position  of  observation,  still 
taking  care  not  to  attract  attention  to  myself. 

Looking  and  listening,  each  sense  on  the  alert  in 
my  endeavor  to  discover  what  possible  business 
Clavel  could  have  with  so  desperate  a  character, 
assured  that  it  was  for  a  far  different  purpose  than 
any  mere  love-making,  as  he  evidently  did  not  know 
the  woman  before  him  was  a  woman,  I  experienced 
a  sudden  indescribable  shock  or  shiver,  somewhat 
like  a  slight  shock  from  an  electric  battery,  which 
was  followed  by  a  blur  or  mist  that  arose  before  my 
eyes.  Out  from  this  mist  two  other  forms  shaped 
themselves  on  the  spot  where  Clavel  and  the  woman 
Nancy  Redwood  stood.  One  of  these  figures  was 
a  distinct,  a  living  similitude  to  Professor  Wye,  and 
the  other  to  Nancy  Redwood  herself,  as  I  used  to 
know  her  at  the  Red  House,  sparkling  and  flashing 
with  a  fierce  beauty.  Her  long  red  hair  was  stream- 
ing over  her  shoulders,  her  flaming  face  was 
j  glowing  with  hate  and  revenge  and  bent  over  the 
recumbent  form  of  Professor  Wye,  who  seemed  to 
be  peacefully  sleeping  and  entirely  oblivious  to  her 
presence.  Her  right  arm  was  raised  threateningly, 
and  she  held  in  her  hand  a  small  vial. 

This  phantasm,  or  whatever  it  might  be,  was 
visible  to  me  for  an  instant  only ;  but  it  was  so  vivid, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  203 

so  terribly  distinct,  that  the  real  occurrence  taking 
place  could  not  have  been  more  real.  When  it 
vanished  Clavel  was  counting  out  some  money  to 
the  seeming  man  before  him,  I,  more  than  ever, 
convinced  that  the  seeming  man  was  none  other 
than  Nancy  Redwood  in  person. 

With  the  payment  of  the  money  the  interview  was 
over.  And,  as  the  disguised  woman  was  going,  the 
sharp  click  of  her  heels  on  the  floor  resounding  with 
the  mallet-like  strokes  I  so  well  remembered,  Clavel 
called  out  to  her  so  loudly  I  could  distinguish  every 
word : 

"  Remember,  not  a  hair  of  his  head  injured,  or  it 
will  be  worse  for  you  ;  and  five  hundred  dollars  of 
it,  no  more  no  less,  will  be  yours,  and  five  hundred 
more  the  man  Noney's — and  a  devilish  high  bid  at 
that.  I  will  be  on  the  spot." 

The  woman,  on  her  way  out,  turned  her  face  and 
nodded  her  head  significantly,  whilst  from  out  her 
black  eyes  (not  black  like  eyes  with  dark  hair,  but 
of  a  tawny  hue)  she  shot  a  glance  so  full  of  mocking 
malignity  that  even  Clavel,  reckless  as  he  was, 
shrunk  back  with  a  perceptible  shudder.  In  a  mo- 
ment more,  turning  on  his  heel,  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  Clavel  swung  himself  off  with  the  arro- 
gant gait  so  habitual  to  him — he  always  taking  up 
more  space  in  walking  than  any  one  else. 

Whilst  pondering  upon  the  singular  chance  that 
had  brought  Nancy  Redwood  back  into  my  life,  and 
endeavoring  to  solve  the  meaning  of  the  strange 
thing  I  had  seen — the  picture  of  her  that  had  pre- 


204 


BRINKA  ; 


sented  itself  to  me  in  connection  with  that  of  Pro- 
fessor Wye — I  felt  Marco's  cold  nose  thrust  within 
my  hand,  and  heard  Hildreth  asking  what  had  de- 
tained me. 

"  Has  anything  serious  occurred  ?"  he  demanded. 
"  You  look  stunned.  Are  you  aware  the  storm  is 
over  and  that  they  are  gone — not  together  ?  Did  you 
discover  the  secret  of  Clavel's — "  Hildreth  stopped 
short,  regarding  me  attentively.  "  Tell  me  at  your 
leisure,  Caryl,"  said  he,  changing  his  tone.  "  Let 
us  go."  With  his  fine  sensibilities,  it  was  Hildreth's 
tactful  way  never  to  persistently  obtrude  his  curi- 
osity upon  any  subject  on  any  one. 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  that  will  stun  you  also," 
I  returned,  as  we  made  our  way  out  of  the  house. 
"  That  man  is  not  a  man,  but  is  Nancy  Redwood, 
and  Clavel  has  employed  her  to  do  some  dark  deed, 
for  which  he  pays  her  a  large  sum." 

"  Horrors  of  Oaken  Dale  Abbey !"  exclaimed 
Roy,  with  a  protracted  whistle.  "  No  wonder  you 
have  that  Ghost  of  Ninus  look  in  your  eyes,  as 
though  you  had  seen  his  satanic  majesty  in  person. 
Great  Scott !  are  you  sure  of  this  ?" 

"As  sure  as  I  am  that  Scott  was  what  you  say — 
great." 

"  How  did  you  discover  it  ?" 

"  That  is  what  I  have  to  tell." 

And,  as  we  rode  home,  encountering  on  our  way 
evidences  of  the  tempest  that  had  swept  past — up- 
rooted trees,  fences  laid  level  with  the  ground,  and 
devastation  generally  among  the  hen-roosts,  cow- 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

sheds,  and  barns — I  gave  Roy  an  account  of  all  that 
had  occurred,  not  omitting  the  phantasm  that  had 
substituted  itself  for  Clavel  and  his  companion. 

"  '  Corpo  di  Baccof  as  our  Roman  padrone  used 
to  exclaim,"  returned  Roy,  with  the  careless  laugh 
so  habitual  to  him.  "  Quite  a  Mystery  of  Udolpho 
incident.  I  suppose  the  faculty  (medical  men  being 
called  '  the  faculty '  per  se,  I  take  it  from  their  faculty 
of  helping  us  out  of  the  world  more  speedily  than 
we  otherwise  would  go)  would  consider  you  a  victim 
of  mental  hallucination  and  a  subject  for  treatment 
— though  with  your  ridiculously  vigorous  health 
you  scarcely  look  it." 

"Jeer  as  you  will,  the  thing  I  saw,  optical  illusion 
or  whatever  it  may  be,  was  as  real  as — " 

"  As  the  wonders  we  witnessed  in  India — flowers 
and  fruit  and  boys  and  birds  produced  by  jugglers 
from  nothing;  Bramins  carving  themselves  intj 
twenty  pieces  and  putting  themselves  together  again 
as  good  as  new.  Or  that  of  the  Yogi,  who  threw  the 
end  of  a  rope  up  into  the  air  and  then  climbed  up  the 
rope  skyward  until  he  and  his  rope  were  out  of 
sight — we  witnessed  that  clever  trick,  you  know, 
several  times  in  Bombay.  That  was  real  enough. 
Or  it  may  be  the  mantle  of  our  friend  Amar  Abad, 
the  great  Eastern  pundit  and  adept,  has  fallen  on 
you.  He  could  project  an  exact  similitude  of  him- 
self, his  astral  form,  to  any  distance  and  converse 
with  you,  entering  your  room  through  the  wall  and 
disappearing  the  same  way,  while  his  real  self  was 
miles  away.  Or — " 


205  BRINKA : 

"Spare  yourself,  my  dear  Roy,  the  fatigue  of 
hunting  up  any  more  ors.  Mock  and  gibe  as  you 
will,  the  figures  I  saw,  that  took  the  places  of  Pro- 
fessor Wye  and  the  woman  Nancy  Redwood,  were  as 
actual  as  those  of  yourself  and  the  horse  you  are  on 
now  before  me.  And  I  cannot  even  yet  shake  off 
the  fear  that  they — it — the  thing  I  saw  may  be 
a  fore-shadowing  of  some  threatened  danger  to 
Professor  Wye.  There,  it  is  out!  I  would  give 
something  to  know — " 

"  The  propter  quod  and  quia,  as  the  schoolmen 
say,"  broke  in  Hildreth,  with  a  provokingly  incredu- 
lous look  and  laugh. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  wish,"  I  persisted,  "the  why 
and  wherefore." 

"  The  why  and  wherefore  of  things  of  that  sort, 
my  beloved  ghost-seer,  like  the  ignes  fatui  of  the 
swamp,  are  elusive  and  delusive.  And  you,  the  most 
skeptical  of  our  party,  when  any  new  wonder  came 
up,  are  now  demanding  the  underlying  secret  of — " 

"  I  should  like  to  know  just  whr.t  it  was,"  I 
urged,  laughing  at  Roy's  pretense  of  not  being  a 
little  startled  himself  at  my  revelation. 

"  You  never  will,"  pursued  Roy,  his  eyes  full  of 
the  bantering  light  with  which  he  scourged  me  for 
my  credulity.  "  What  do  we  know  of  the  telephone ; 
of  how  the  voices  we  recognize  come  to  us  from  the 
distance  of  miles  on  electric  wires  that —  There 
stands  Mrs.  Blythe  at  the  front  door,  the  good  soul, 
on  the  watch  for  us." 

"And   seeing  and   recognizing  us,"    I   returned, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


2O7 


"  goes  back  again  into  the  house  content.  It  is 
worth  something  to  hold  so  warm  a  place  in  her 
good,  honest  heart  as  we  do." 

"As  you  do  you  mean,  Caryl,"  said  Roy,  with  a 
laugh.  "  I  have  often  tried  to  fathom  the  '  under- 
lying secret '  of  your  power.  Men,  women,  dogs, 
cats,  horses — why,  every  horse  in  the  stable  mani- 
fests more  affection  for  you  than  for  all  the  rest  of 
us  put  together,  and  will  seek  you  out  and  rub  his 
head  on  your  shoulder.  Marco,  here,  won't  look  at 
any  one  but  you  ;  'for  myself,  I  am  yours  to  com- 
mand. It  was  the  same  when  we  were  abroad ;  not 
a  waiter  of  them  all  but  felt  the  charm  of  that  hand- 
some, sympathetic  face  of  yours,  crowned  by  that 
expansive  brow ;  and  that  air  distingub — that  won- 
derful manner  of  yours — " 

"  When  you  are  through  with  these  pleasantries, 
Roy,"  I  interrupted,  "  I  should  like  to  say — " 

"  Pleasantries !"  echoed  Roy.  "  Calls  the  truth 
pleasantries !" 

"  Unpleasantries,  then.  But  listen.  Mrs.  Blythe 
knows  nothing  concerning  Nancy  Redwood,  and 
had  better  not  know.  No  one  has  ever  been  told 
anything  about  the  Red  House  or  any  of  its  inmates 
but  you.  Professor  Wye  so  advised." 

"  Through  what  strange  chance  could  it  have  been 
that  Clavel  has  come  across  her  and  employed  her 
on  that  crooked  business  of  his,  whatever  it  is,  for 
which  he  pays  her — " 

"  Let  us  hear  what  the  Professor  says,"  I  broke 
in,  a  sudden  light  having  dawned  on  me.  "  He  re- 


208  BRINKA : 

ceives  a  large  sum  of  money  this  afternoon  for  the 
sale  of  those  Chicago  and  Kansas  city  lots,  and  the 
money  will  probably  be  in  the  house  to-night,  un- 
less— " 

"  Does  Clavel  know  this  ?"  asked  Roy,  with  a 
quick  look.  "  This  Nancy  of  yours,  then,  being  a 
wicked  sorceress,  in  the  secret  of  black  magic,  has 
enlightened  him;  and  this  money,  the  '/'/' — one 
thousand  dollars  of  which  he  is  to  pay  her  and 
Ranee  Noney  to — " 

"  She  is  in  secrets  black  enough,"  I  interrupted. 
"  But  Clavel  has  always  been  curious  and  prying 
about  the  Professor's  affairs.  The  sale  of  those  West- 
ern lots  was  talked  of  before  we  went  abroad." 

"  Then  you  think  it  possible  that  Clavel  could  be 
guilty  of  an  act  so  monstrous  as — "  Roy  paused, 
with  contracted  brows.  "  His  own  uncle — who  has 
done  so  much  for  him — whom  of  all  men  in  the 
world  I  esteem  the  most,"  pursued  Hildreth,  break- 
ing his  sentences  in  excess  of  indignation.  "  Though, 
to  be  sure,  Clavel  always  was  a  black  sheep — 
but — " 

"  Let  us  talk  with  the  Professor,"  I  repeated,  for 
all  answer. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


209 


XXI. 

A    SERIOUS  CONFIDENCE. 

ON  entering  the  house,  after  leaving  our  horses 
in  the  stable,  Mrs.  Blythe  informed  us  that 
Professor  Wye  was  engaged  with  his  lawyer  and  the 
agent  from  Chicago. 

"  The  time  set  for  the  payment  of  them  lots  was 
the  thirtieth  of  this  cullender  month,"  she  added, 
"  and  here  it  is.  I've  ben  in  and  signed,  and  Mrs. 
Repsneider's  ben  in  and  signed.  The  payment  was 
made  in  coop-hens — sech  odd  names  as  they  do  git 
for  things  now-a-days,  a-body'd  think  it  was  a  lot  of 
poultry,  when  it's  a  great  many  thousand  dollars. 
They  came  simultaneous  with  the  storm.  And  sech 
a  storm's  it's  ben — the  trees  uphove  and  Ben  a- 
growlin'  at  the  havoc  in  the  green-usses — and  the 
horses  all  winnowing  with  fright — and  the  roof  of 
Widow  Van  Gilder's  house,  over  there,  took  clean 
off — she  who  wa'n't  even  out  of  her  room  afore  for 
months,  sech  a  latitudinarian  as  she's  got  to  be. 
But  she's  out  now,  for  she's  blew  out  and  drowned 
out — her  own  house,  too  !  They  took  her  on  a  bed 
to  her  son-in-law's,  in  the  new  house,  and  she  sech 
a  latitudinarian  to  be  out  in  a  tempest !  It's  well 
for  her  she's  got  plenty  of  money  and  servants  and 


BR1NKA: 

blankets.  She  was  all  wrapped  up  in  them — blan- 
kets, I  mean.  But  where'd  you  find  shelter?  I 
thought  a  heap  about  you  both,  and  fretted  con- 
sid'able." 

"  We  went  into  the  haunted  house,"  I  re- 
plied. 

Mrs.  Blythe  raised  both  chubby  hands.  "  Gra- 
cious !"  she  exclaimed.  "  'Twould  take  consid'- 
able  to  induce  me  to  go  into  that  house — I'd  con- 
sider it  a-temptin'  of  Providence.  Still,  all  the  same, 
I  should  love  the  wust  kind  to  know  what  you  see 
there,  though  I  s'pose  you'd  think  it  the  highth  of 
inquisitiveness  in  me  to  ask  you  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  I  returned.  "  Clavel  was 
there,  and  a  person  with  him  who — " 

"  Clavel !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Blythe,  in  the  chub- 
biest surprise.  "  What  on  airth  took  Clavel  over  on 
this  side  of  the  river  and  into  that  house  ?" 

"  That  is  just  what  I  should  like  to  know,"  I  re- 
turned, "  what  his  business  could  be  with  the 
person  he  met  there — with  black  hair  and  red-black 
eyes,  full  of  venom  and  fire." 

"  The  evil  one,  without  a  doubt,"  declared  Mrs. 
Blythe,  in  chubby  horror.  "  Though  I  d'  know  as 
I  know  how  the  evil  one  looks.  Had  he  a  cloven 
foot  and  a  forked  tail  ?" 

"  If  so,  they  were  kept  well  out  of  sight.  I  could 
distinguish  very  little  of  what  was  said  except  Ga- 
vel's last  words." 

"Ah,  now  you're  comin'  to  the  pint.  I  d'  know 
but  I'd  give  my  best  gownd  to  know  what  they 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  2 1 1 

was,"  hinted  Mrs.  Blythe,  with  her  eyes  as  wide 
open  and  as  round  as  a  baby's. 

"'  Remember,  not  a  hair  of  his  head  injured,  or  it 
will  be  worse  for  you ;  and  five  hundred  dollars  of 
it,  no  more,  no  less,  will  be  yours  and  five  hundred 
more  the  man  Noney's — and  a  devilish  high  bid 
at  that.  I  will  be  on  the  spot.'  " 

"  See  that,  now  ?  That  was  the  money  Clavel  got 
for  sellin'  of  his  soul  to  the  evil  one,"  explained  Mrs. 
Blythe,  in  chubby  dismay. 

"  But  it  was  the  other  one  who  got  the  money, 
don't  you  see  ?"  said  Roy,  laughing.  "  How  do  you 
account  for  that  ?" 

"  Me  ?  I  never  account  for  nothin' — I  only  know 
things  is.  It  wouldn't  be  right  to  go  sarchin'  too 
euros  into  the  affairs  of  old  Plutarch  and  his  imps. 
You  may  laugh,  Roy  and  Caryl,  I  d'  know  as  I  care. 
But  say  what  agin  it  who  will,  a  body  can't  help 
feeling  streaked  when  supernateral  things  comes  up. 
And  let  me  tell  you,"  continued  she,  trundling  up  to 
us  with  an  air  of  chubby  mystery,  and  laying  her 
chunky  hand  softly  on  my  shoulder,  "  I've  seen 
things  myself,  and  I've  had  my  warnin's  and  my 
visions  and  my  dreams,  and  I've  seen  what  the  doc- 
tors calls  optional  collusions  (and  let  me  tell  you, 
they  don't  know  more'n  they  orter  about  the  same) 
that  would  e'en-a'most  lift  the  hair  off  of  one's  head. 
And  they  all  come  out  true,  and  wa'n't  no  optional  col- 
lusions, and  their  warnin's  come  out  exact  and — " 

Here  Sarah,  the  pretty  waiting-maid,  came  in  in- 
terrupting, with  a  telegram  for  Roy. 


2 1 2  BRLVKA  : 

"  I  must  start  at  once  for  Louisiana  in  the  night 
train,"  said  Roy;  "  my  aunt  is  suddenly  worse,  and 
may  be  dead  before  I  can  reach  her.  It  is  a  great 
shock  to  me,"  and  he  fixed  his  eyes,  that  were  usually 
so  light  and  brimming  over  with  humor,  full  on  space, 
looking  thoughtful  and  much  troubled.  "  I  feel 
very  remorseful,"  he  continued,  with  great  sim- 
plicity. "  I  ought  to  have  gone  as  soon  as  we  re- 
turned from  Europe ;  but  New  Orleans  is  so  hot  in 
summer,  and  my  aunt's  illness  was  not  considered 
anything  serious ;  and,  then,  this  seems  more  to  me 
like  home  than  any  other  spot  on  earth — I've  really 
seen  very  little  of  my  aunt  since  I  was  a  child — and 
less  of  my  uncle  in  Arizona.  And,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  have  grown  so  much  attached  to  the  Professor  and 
you,  Caryl,  that — but  I  must  go  and  get  ready  at 
once." 

"  I  will  help  you,  Roy,"  I  returned. 

"  I  shall  be  back  here  again  as  soon  as  my  aunt 
is  better  or — I  do  so  hope  I  shall  find  her  better." 

"Oh,  I  think  you'll  find  her  better,"  said  Mrs. 
Blythe,  cheerily.  "  I  d'  know's  I  know  why  I 
think  so,  but  I  do.  And  you'll  soon  be  back,  for  you 
and  Caryl  are  such  friends — I  d'  know's  I  ever  see 
two  young  men  so  agreeable  and  so  devoted  to  one 
another,  just  like  what  Damon  and  Pity-us  was,  for 
all  the  world." 

"Or  David  and  Jonathan,"  said  Roy,  as  he 
started  to  leave  the  room.  "  That's  what  poor  old 
Bervault  called  us." 

"  I  d'  know  but  what  I'd  consider  it  a  mite  onre- 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS, 


213 


ligious  to  compare  you  to  so  righteous  a  man  as 
David,"  objected  Mrs.  Blythe,  with  chubby  candor. 
"  I  d'  know  but  what  we  should  respect  the  Scripters 
more'n  that.  But,  dear  son,  don't  you  trouble  about 
your  packing.  I'll  put  up  all  the  things  you'll  need 
in  no  time,"  and  Mrs.  Blythe  moved  briskly  toward 
the  door,  waylaying  Roy  in  his  egress. 

"  Oh  !  thank  you,  you  are  too  kind,  Mrs.  Blythe," 
replied  Roy,  returning  and  throwing  himself  lazily 
back  into  the  arm-chair,  from  which  he  had  risen. 
"  I  am  a  monster  of  selfishness,  to  take  advantage  of 
your  offer,  but  I  am  such  a  clumsy  packer,  and 
never  get  the  things  I  want  and  always  get  the 
things  I  don't  need,  that — " 

"  Will  a  valise  answer  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Blythe,  with 
a  chubby  laugh,  "  or  shall  I  take  a  trunk  ?" 

"Thank  you,  no,"  returned  Roy,  from  the  depths 
of  his  chair.  "  A  valise  will  be  all-sufficient.  I  can 
telegraph  if  I  need  anything  more,  should  my  stay 
be  protracted ;  don't  you  see  ?"  Mrs.  Blythe  saw, 
and  as  she  left  the  room  on  what  Roy  called 
her  errand  of  mercy,  Sarah  re-entered  with  a 
request  from  Professor  Wye  to  join  him  in  the 
parlor. 

"  We  are  just  needing  you,  Caryl,  and  you  also, 
Roy,"  said  he,  as  we  entered  the  room.  He  looked 
up  from  a  legal  document  he  held  in  his  hand,  add- 
ing :  "  Mr.  Coil  has  just  made  out  this,  and  it  awaits 
your  signatures." 

We  respectfully  saluted  Mr.  Coil,  and  being  in- 
troduced to  the  Western  gentleman  and  asked  to 


214 


BRINKA  : 


read  the  several  legal  papers  before  signing  our 
names,  I  discovered  that  the  "this"  to  which  Pro- 
fessor Wye  alluded,  was  a  deed  of  transfer  to  me  of 
the  large  amount  just  paid  over  by  the  Western 
agent  for  the  valuable  real  estate  in  Chicago  and 
Kansas  City,  and  that  the  sum  made  over  to  me  was 
upwards  of  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

I  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  not  to  manifest 
the  great  astonishment  I  felt.  And  as  I  looked  up, 
after  affixing  my  signature  in  the  right  place,  I  met 
the  Professor's  serious  eyes  regarding  me  with  evi- 
dent approval  of  the  cool  way  I  had  taken  the  mat- 
ter, as  though  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  having  a 
hundred  thousand  dollars  or  so  transferred  to  me 
every  other  day.  When  Roy  had  signed  his  name 
as  witness,  and  Mr.  Coil  and  Mr.  Harkness,  the 
Western  gentleman,  had  gone,  after  the  business 
was  all  concluded,  the  Professor  gave  us  a  few 
words  of  explanation. 

"  After  giving  Mr.  Coil  the  necessary  directions," 
said  he,  "  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  would  be  a  con- 
venient time  to  have  the  money  invested  in  your 
name,  Caryl,  as  it  will  all  be  yours  some  day.  It  is 
real  estate  I  have  owned  for  thirty  years  or  more, 
and  that  has  been  steadily  increasing  in  value  with 
the  growth  of  the  cities.  I  had  a  good  offer  for  it,  and 
as  I  do  not  need  the  money  it  brought,  I  prefer  it 
should  be  owned  by  you.  It  will  give  you  some 
care  ;  but  the  sooner  you  learn  how  to  transact  busi- 
ness for  yourself  the  better." 

"  It  is  a  very  serious  trust  you  have  reposed  in 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


215 


me,  my  dear  Professor,  and  I — "  I  wanted  to  say 
more,  but  somehow  the  words  did  not  come. 

"  It  is  sometimes  more  easy  to  sustain  the  burthen 
of  a  serious  confidence  than  lighter  ones,"  observed 
the  Professor,  a  rarely  benignant  smile  illumining 
his  countenance. 

"  It  would  almost  seem,  Professor  Wye,"  said 
Roy,  "as  though  some  intimation  of  what  Caryl 
heard  and  saw  in  the  haunted  house  (as  strange  as 
any  fiction,  I  assure  you)  had  by  some  telephonic 
process  reached  you,  that  you  sent  that  money  out 
of  the  house  very  nearly  as  soon  as  it  was  brought 
in." 

"  It  is  possible  you  are  right,"  returned  the  Pro- 
fessor, dryly ;  "  but  since  my  house  was  broken  into 
and  robbed,  just  after  I  started  my  school,  I  have 
made  it  a  point  to  keep  no  money  or  silver-plate  of 
much  value  in  the  house.  But  what  was  it  Caryl 
saw  in  the  haunted  house  ?"  he  added,  with  a  pecu- 
liar smile. 

Thereupon  I  told  the  Professor  of  all  that  had 
transpired,  omitting  no  detail ;  of  noticing  Clavel  in 
his  saloon  and  the  unprepossessing  man  beside  him 
at  the  bar,  who  seemed  so  familiar  to  me  and  so  im- 
possible to  recognize  ;  of  their  both  coming  to  the 
old  ruin,  where  Roy  and  I  had  taken  shelter ;  and 
then  of  the  two  illusive  figures  that  took  their  place 
— one  being  himself  (Professor  Wye)  and  the  other 
Nancy  Redwood ;  and  lastly,  of  Clavel's  parting 
words : 

"  Remember,  not  a  hair  of  his  head  injured,  or  it 


BRIXKA: 

will  be  worse  for  you  ;  and  five  hundred  dollars  of 
it,  no  more,  no  less,  will  be  yours,  and  five  hundred 
more  the  man  Noney's — and  a  devilish  high  bid  at 
that.  I  will  be  on  the  spot." 

"  I  fully  recognized  Nancy  Redwood  in  the  per- 
son with  Clavel,"  I  concluded,  adding  :  "  If  any  one 
this  morning  had  told  me  that  this  afternoon  I 
should  see  a  -vision,  and  believe  in  it,  I  would  have 
laughed  at  it.  But  I  cannot  laugh  at  this,  and  what 
I  fear  is  that  in  some  incomprehensible  way  it  is 
an  intimation  of  some  threatened  danger  to  you, 
sir.  Whatever  it  is,  it  has  made  me  shiver  with  an 
unaccountable  dread  ever  since,  and,  do  my  best,  I 
cannot  shake  it  off." 

"  Do  not  fear  I  shall  ridicule  this,  my  dear 
Caryl,"  said  the  Professor,  having  listened  atten- 
tively to  the  end,  causing  me  to  repeat  much  of 
what  had  transpired  in  the  old  house.  "  Similar  phe- 
nomena are  too  well  authenticated  to  admit  of 
doubt ;  and,  though  by  our  most  learned  authori- 
ties they  are  classed  as  mental  hallucinations  from 
some  cerebral  derangement,  they  are  also  ascribed 
by  many  to  other  causes.  The  disciples  of  the 
higher  phases  of  Buddhism,  for  instance,  whose 
doctrines  are  so  attracting  our  own  transcendental- 
ists,  and  certain  other  of  our  metaphysical  writers, 
can  produce  these  phenomena  at  will,  as  you  wit- 
nessed in  India,  and  have  formulated  the  conditions 
governing  them,  into  a  science,  disclaiming  for  these 
miracles  all  supernatural  agency.  They  claim  that 
through  the  developing  and  perfecting  of  what  the 


AN  AMERICAN  CO UNTESS.  2 1  7 

schoolmen  would  call  the  tertium  quid — that  third 
principle  within  us  connecting  the  soul  with  the 
outer  material  body — they  can  arrive  at  the  point 
they  call  moksha,  where  all  the  underlying  secrets 
of  nature  are  open  to  them.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the 
spectrum  seen  by  you  undoubtedly  has,  could  we 
fathom  it,  a  natural  and  philosophical  solution  as  to 
cause  and  consequence." 

"  Consequence !"  I  echoed,  hastily.  "  You  think, 
then,  the  consequence  may  be  some  threatened 
danger  to  yourself — taking  all  that  passed  and  put- 
ting it  together,  that  it — the  thing  I  saw — por- 
tends— " 

"  Calm  yourself,  my  dear  Caryl,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessor, with  a  serenity  of  mien  the  most  profound, 
while  he  regarded  me  with  a  look  as  tenderly 
sympathetic  as  a  woman's.  "  You  are  too  much 
troubled  over  this.  Every  event  in  life,  having  its 
cause,  has  its  inevitable  result,  as  a  march  of  chords 
in  music  must  be  followed  by  its  legitimate  resolu- 
tion. Human  science  has  not  yet  progressed  so  far 
(at  least  with  us  who  know  nothing  of  the  Bud- 
dhist's moksha)  that  we  can  comprehend  the  inner 
workings  of  Nature ;  and  there  are  so  many  of  its 
unguessed  riddles,  that  baffle  our  outer  vision, 
which  we  are  forced  to  accept  on  conviction,  our 
aim  must  be  to  avoid  the  extreme  of  belief,  which 
degenerates  into  credulity,  as  the  extreme  of  unbe- 
lief, which  is  infidelity.  But,  dropping  your  illusion, 
Caryl,  or  whatever  the  spectrum  you  saw  may  be 
called,  the  words  you  heard  uttered  by  Gavel  are 


2 1 8  BRINKA  : 

tangible  enough,  and  to  whomsoever  they  may 
allude,  are  incomprehensible,  from  the  monstrous  fact 
they  reveal  of  his  being  in  league  with  that  desper- 
ate gang  to  effect  some  unlawful  scheme  of  his  own. 
And  your  fear  that  I  am  the  one  threatened,  or  this 
house  the  one  to  be  pillaged,  may  or  may  not  be 
well  grounded." 

Roy  Hildreth  never,  for  any  length  of  time  serious 
on  any  subject,  asked,  with  a  careless  laugh,  if  I  was 
sure  that  it  was  not  a  hair  of  her  head  that  was  not 
to  be  injured,  for  which  Clavel  had  stipulated. 

"  It  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  runaway 
scrape  Clavel  is  engaged  in,"  he  asserted,  airily, 
with  another  light  laugh,  "  and  he  employs  these 
friends  of  yours,  Caryl — these  Chevaliers  (f  Industrie 
— to  help  him  bag  the  heiress,  see?  Charging  them 
that  each  golden  hair  of  her  precious  head  must  be 
held  as  sacred  as  the  holy  grail,  or  it  will  be  worse 
for  them.  In  the  crescendo  and  fortzando  of  the 
wind-gusts  you  misunderstood  the  pronoun,  don't 
you  see  ?" 

"  If  Clavel  is  engaged  in  anything  half  so  harm- 
less, I  shall  be  glad,"  I  replied. 

Roy  might  have  gone  on  multiplying  wild  theo- 
ries about  Clavel  in  his  attempt  to  arouse  me  from 
my  gloomy  fears  had  not  the  dinner-bell  sounded, 
when,  looking  at  his  watch,  he  declared  he  had  no 
more  than  time  to  dine  and  catch  the  train. 

"  Not  a  word  of  this  in  the  presence  of  my  sister," 
said  the  Professor.  "  She  has  suffered  too  much 
already  from  Clavel's  actual  misdeeds,  and  must  not 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  2IQ 

be  tortured  by  any  anticipation.     This  may  prove 
something  serious,  and  may  not." 

In  good  truth,  Mrs.  Repsneider,  fragile,  sensitive, 
and  refined  to  the  last  degree,  was  well  guarded  by 
every  one  in  the  house.  Mrs.  Blythe  would  have 
laid  down  her  life  to  keep  harm  from  her,  and  the 
Professor's  first  thought  was  for  her. 


220  BRINK  A: 


XXII. 

TONE-PICTURES. 

IMMEDIATELY  after  dinner  I  drove  Roy  down 
to  the  ferry,  and  leaving  the  horse  and  phaeton 
fastened  under  the  long  shed  close  by  the  ferry, 
where  a  sign  proclaimed  "  five  cents  a  hitch,"  we 
walked  on  board  the  ferry-boat  and  crossed  over  to 
New  London  just  as  the  train-boat  from  the  East 
came  into  the  dock.  Running  at  full  speed  to  the 
ticket-office  in  the  railroad  station  we  had  just  time 
to  get  a  ticket — Roy  swinging  himself  upon  the 
platform  of  the  rear  car  after  the  train  had  started. 

On  my  return  home  I  repaired  to  my  own  room, 
to  reply  to  a  letter  I  had  that  day  received  from  the 
Countess  Brinka. 

We  had  corresponded  at  irregular  intervals  during 
the  six  years  we  had  not  met — Brinka's  letters  having 
gradually  changed  in  penmanship  and  diction  from 
the  epistles  of  the  impulsive  child  to  the  finished 
letters  of  a  thoughtful,  highly-cultured  young  lady. 
And  the  only  fault  in  her  charming  letters  I  could 
find  was  that  they  had  gradually  become  more  and 
more  reserved  and  formal.  Why,  it  did  not  at  that 
time  enter  into  my  head  to  conceive,  and  I  imputed 
their  shy  remoteness  to  a  natural  decrease  of  regard 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS.  2  2  I 

for  me,  growing  out  of  time  and  distance,  and  I 
found  myself  longing  ardently  to  see  her  again. 

In  this  last  letter  she  animadverted  lightly  on 
the  strange  chance  that  had  kept  distance  so  many 
years  between  us,  and  added  that  her  father  had  just 
proposed  a  trip  to  Chillingford  Castle,  which  she 
had  declined,  telling  him  he  would  have  to  take 
his  voyage  without  her.  And  the  consequence 
would  be,  she  declared,  that  he  would  not  go,  as  he 
never  went  anywhere  without  her.  I  fancied  I  could 
enlighten  her  wonder  as  to  why  we  had  not  met 
for  six  years,  and  before  that  so  infrequently  since 
that  memorable  time,  when  a  child  of  less  than 
eight,  she  had  so  naively  declared  that  the  sapphire 
ring  I  had  given  her  was  our  engagement-ring,  and 
that  we  were  to  be  married  as  soon  as  we  were  old 
enough.  The  conviction  had  strengthened  in  my 
mind  that  the  Duke  of  Chillingford,  although  he 
insisted  on  being  "  plain  Mr.  Vaughan,"  "  an  Ameri- 
can citizen,"  in  this  country  at  least,  had  other  views 
for  his  peerless  daughter  Brinka  than  to  see  her  the 
wife  of  so  unpretending  a  person  as  myself;  and 
that  any  stratagem  by  which  she  could  be  kept  from 
meeting  one  so  dangerous  to  his  ambitious  plans 
was  to  be  employed.  Brinka,  I  was  certain  had,  so 
far,  no  thought  of  his  schemes  in  her  behalf. 

From  time  to  time,  in  her  letters,  she  had  casu- 
ally mentioned  Glencairn,  our  old  school-fellow, 
now  Earl  of  Baysfield,  also  a  certain  Marquis  of 
Tyne,  quite  young  men  and  great  favorites  with  her 
father.  But,  from  the  frank,  careless  way  she  spoke 


222  BRINK'A: 

of  them,  I  judged  also  that  her  chief  interest  in  them 
arose  from  her  father's  partiality  to  them.  From 
the  letter  just  received,  dated  from  Canada,  she  dis- 
closed the  fact  that  the  Earl  of  Baysfield  had  accom- 
panied them  to  Canada,  to  see  the  country  her 
father  had  declared,  and  was  stopping  with  them  at 
the  hotel. 

When  I  went  down  into  the  parlor,  after  having 
finished  a  letter  to  her,  anything  but  satisfactory — 
(did  any  one  ever  write  a  letter  to  the  young  lady  he 
admired  that  was  satisfactory  to  himself?) — I  found 
Professor  Wye  reading  aloud  to  his  sister,  who  made 
occasional  pertinent  remarks  appreciative  of  the 
rather  abstruse  subject  to  which  she  was  listen- 
ing. 

Mrs.  Ely  the,  seated  at  a  little  distance  from  them, 
made  no  comments,  but  was  conscientiously  listen- 
ing, her  cheerful,  round  eyes  fixed  intently  on  the 
Professor,  her  knitting-work  held  suspended  in  her 
hands,  the  cat  meanwhile  making  havoc  with  the 
ball  of  yarn  that  had  dropped  to  the  floor.  From 
the  expression  of  her  face  and  her  knotted  forehead, 
it  was  apparent  that  the  metaphysical  subject  she 
was  trying  to  take  in  was  entirely  beyond  her  grasp. 
But  her  manifest  desire  to  obey  the  Scriptural  in- 
junction to  get  understanding  was  always  too  touch- 
ing to  be  ludicrous. 

Shutting  his  book  presently,  and  rising  to  touch 
the  bell-spring  to  summon  Miles,  the  solemn,  digni- 
fied waiter  (grown  more  solemn  and  dignified  with 
his  six  years  of  foreign  travel  with  us),  the  Pro- 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


223 


fessor  requested  him,  on  his  entrance,  to  take  his 
seat  at  the  organ-bellows. 

With  the  air  of  a  true  descendant  of  the  old  Puri- 
tans (his  full  name  was  Miles  Mather)  he  pumped 
away  steadily  for  two  or  more  hours,  first  having 
set  all  the  doors,  opening  into  the  great  drawing- 
room,  wide  open  that  the  waves  of  sound  from  the 
huge  organ  might  have  full  egress  and  not  vibrate 
unpleasantly  on  the  ear. 

I  accompanied  the  Professor  with  my  violin,  ac- 
cording to  our  custom,  until,  begging  him  to  con- 
tinue his  playing,  I  seated  myself  in  a  great  arm- 
chair to  enjoy  fully  the  skill  that  never  failed  to 
enthrall  me.  There  was  such  a  clearness  and  deli- 
cacy of  conception,  and  such  a  breadth  of  style, 
with  so  much  good  aijd  genial  feeling  in  his  impro- 
visations that  I  always  felt  him  to  be  the  true  tone- 
poet.  And,  used  as  I  was  to  his  tone-pictures,  I 
had  seldom  or  never  before  heard  him  play  with 
such  power.  He  had  a  wonderful  gift  of  modula- 
tion, and  to-night  the  shades  of  harmony,  in  melting 
from  one  key  to  another  and  through  all  keys  back 
into  the  original  key,  was  something  almost  start- 
ling. 

Presently  his  theme  took  word,  and  I  felt  that  he 
was  telling  thrilling  tales  of  storm  and  shipwreck,  of 
lives  saved  and  glorified  in  thanksgiving  upon 
sunny,  fruitful  isles,  and  of  joyful  recognitions 
where  the  soul  is  too  glad  for  anything  but  tears. 
And  then  I  felt  the  theme  change,  filling  my  mind 
with  pictures  of  the  peaceful  birth,  the  glorious 


224  BRINK'A  : 

youth,  the  victorious  manhood,  the  unutterable 
good  wrought  through  the  unutterable  love  of  His 
soul,  the  trials  and  terrible  expiation  for  other's 
wickednesses  of  the  "  man  of  sorrows  " — the  requiem 
for  His  martyrdom  and  the  Te  Deum,  in  strains 
divinely  exultant  for  His  luminous  ascension. 

The  Professor,  having  ceased  playing,  walked 
backed  to  his  arm-chair,  while  I,  too  full  of  the 
noble  strains  still  .ringing  in  my  ear  for  quiet,  took 
a  few  turns  up  and  down  the  room,  stopping  pre- 
sently before  the  Professor's  chair. 

"  There  is  no  power  on  earth  that  can  move  the 
heart  like  music !"  I  exclaimed,  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Unless  we  except  the  gift  of  Oratory,  or  the 
emotion  of  Hatred,  or  that  of  Love,  or  the  stirrings 
of  Ambition,  or  the  power  of — money,  the  ruling 
power  of  the  world,  to  which  all  bend  the  knee," 
said  the  Professor,  with  a  great  smile. 

"  You  laugh  at  me,  my  dear  Professor ;  and  you 
can  well  afford  to  laugh,  having  in  your  music  the 
power  over  all  emotions,  the  universal  language 
that  can  appeal  to  all  hearts." 

"  Nothing  less,  my  dear  Caryl  ?"  demanded  the 
Professor,  with  pleasant  irony,  the  smile  deepening 
on  his  face. 

"  If  you  were  a  sorcerer,  and  I  believe  you  are, 
you  would  have  ready  converts  through  such  music 
to  a  faith  in  witchcraft,  hobgoblinry,  metempsycho- 
sis— metempsychosis,"  I  repeated  with  a  rush,  re- 
gardless of  the  effect  on  my  audience — "  did  I  not 
hear  you  cause  demons  to  be  born  anew  into  angels  ? 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

Lizards  and  scorpions  into  tuneful  birds  ?  The 
mire  of  the  swamp  into  rainbows  ?  The  agony  of 
mortal  pain  into  exultant  joy  ?  Music  ! — Amphion 
did  build  the  wall  around  his  metropolis  by  the 
potency  of  his  lyre,  causing  stone  after  stone  to  rise 
and  range  itself  in  order  to  his  music  without  the 
help  of  human  hands.  Orpheus  did  make  animals 
dance  to  his  music,  and  trees  uproot  themselves  and 
follow  his  sweet  strains.  Arion  drew  the  fisK  of  the 
sea  after  his  lyre,  performing  with  his  music  all  the 
miracles  assigned  him ;  and  Clinias  and  Empedo- 
cles  surely  cured  the  mad  with  it.  The  famous 
physician,  Asclepiades,  performed  with  music  all 
the  wonderful  cures  ascribed  to  him.  Arid  if  Han- 
del, Mozart,  Haydn,  Cherubini,  Rossini,  Gluck, 
Beethoven,  Bartholdy,  or  Bach  ever  extemporized 
a  grander  epic  in  sound  than  you  have  to-night, 
then  may  I  hear  it  in  their  concerts  of  the  world  to 
come." 

I  stopped  suddenly,  ashamed  of  my  fervor,  feeling 
exceedingly  youthful — my  twenty-one  years  on  which 
I  secretly  vaunted  myself,  dwindling  down  one-half. 
But,  chancing  to  glance  at  Mrs.  Repsneider,  she 
accorded  me  a  well-pleased  smile,  so  genial,  so  like 
some  of  her  brother's,  that  I  took  heart  again  until 
sweeping  the  room  again  with  my  eyes  I  encoun- 
tered Mrs.  Blythe's  unfeignedly  puzzled  and  some- 
what alarmed  look,  as  though  she  were  not  quite 
sure  if  I  had  suddenly  taken  leave  of  my  senses. 

"  It  is  all  owing  to  you,  my  dear  Professor,"  said 
I,  with  a  deprecatory  laugh,  subsiding  into  my  nor- 


226  BRINKA  : 

mal  manner,  to  the  evident  relief  of  Mrs.  Ely  the. 
"  You  should  not  make  such  music." 

"  On  the  contrary,  my  dear  Caryl,  if  I  can  call 
forth  such  eloquence  by  a  few  chords,  I  should  never 
cease  playing."  Mrs.  Repsneider  laughed  softly 
and  rose  to  leave  the  room,  Mrs.  Ely  the  accompany- 
ing her,  bidding  us  good-night. 

The  Professor  and  I  talked  on  until  it  was  near 
midnight,  and  never  had  I  been  more  impressed  by 
the  scope  of  his  information  and  the  extent  of  his 
faculty  for  observation.  And  when  at  length  we 
sought  our  rooms  for  the  night,  I  was  so  full  of  all 
he  had  been  saying  that  I  forgot  my  fear  of  Clavel's 
possible  evil  designs  upon  the  house,  and  soon  sank 
into  the  profoundest  sleep. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


227 


XXIII. 

A   BOLD   SCHEME. 

A  STRANGE  noise,  or  several  suppressed  noises 
in  succession — the  rustling  of  papers,  muffled 
footsteps,  an  indistinct  call  as  for  help,  mingling  with 
my  dreams,  aroused  me  to  the  possession  of  my 
waking  faculties,  and  opening  my  eyes  I  beheld  a 
face  bending  over  me,  so  dire  in  its  malignity  of  ex- 
pression that  for  a  moment  it  seemed  a  part  of  the 
horrible  nightmare  from  which  I  had  awakened.  I 
realized  on  the  instant  that  the  face  belonged  to 
Nancy  Redwood,  from  the  dim  light  of  the  dark- 
lantern  she  held  in  her  hand,  and  the  next  instant  I 
sprang  to  my  feet  and  made  a  sudden  clutch  at  the 
woman  dressed  as  a  man,  who  wrenched  herself 
free,  left  her  coat  in  my  hands  and  ran  swiftly  in  her 
shirt-sleeves  to  the  stairs.  Dropping  the  coat  I 
hastened  after  her,  she  leaping  down  the  stairway 
and  to  the  front  door,  where,  by  the  dim  light  of 
their  dark-lantern  I  could  distinguish  two  men  bear- 
ing out  what  seemed  to  be  a  human  form. 

Not  realizing  what  it  could  mean  in  the  rush  of  it 
all,  or  who  the  person  they  were  bearing  out  of  the 
house,  I  called  out  lustily  to  Ben  Law  and  Miles 
Mather,  to  Dick,  and  then  to  Professor  Wye.  And 


228  BRINKA: 

reaching  the  front  door  I  saw  the  men  lift  the 
weight,  the  human  form  they  carried,  which  was 
covered  with  a  light  spread,  into  a  carriage  that 
stood  in  waiting  by  the  door,  and  one  of  the  men 
mounting  to  the  driver's  box  drove  off  at  furious 
speed,  the  woman  Nancy  Redwood  having  leaped 
into  the  carriage  as  it  started. 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  as  the  carriage  crashed 
off,  it  flashed  on  me  that,  for  the  purpose,  undoubt- 
edly, of  extorting  ransom-money,  Clavel  had  con- 
ceived and  executed  the  bold  project  of  removing 
Professor  Wye  himself  from  his  house. 

I  mounted  the  stairs  to  his  room  in  breathless 
haste  to  find  my  fears  confirmed.  The  room  was 
in  the  greatest  confusion,  and  a  pungent  odor  of 
chloroform  or  ether  pervaded  it,  but  Professor  Wye 
was  not  there.  I  passed  through  his  room  over 
papers  and  wearing  apparel,  strewn  around  on  the 
floor  in  their  search  for  money  or  papers  of  value, 
and  entered  my  own  room,  which  adjoined  that  of 
the  Professor's.  As  I  commenced  dressing  myself, 
Ben  Law,  the  gardener,  joined  me,  proposing  the 
wildest,  most  impracticable  schemes  for  Professor 
Wye's  recovery.  Miles,  silent,  dazed  apparently 
with  terror  and  grief,  proposed  nothing.  Whilst 
Dick,  the  coachman,  cried :  "  I'll  saddle  the  horses 
and  be  ready  for  anything." 

Soon  after  the  whole  house  met  in  conclave  in 
the  Professor's  study,  Mrs.  Repsneider  with  a  face 
so  white,  so  ghastly,  that  she  looked  more  like  a 
dead  than  a  living  woman. 


AN  A  ME  RICA  N  CO  U.VTESS.  2  2$ 

She  called  me  to  one  side  and  told  me  with  blood- 
less lips  that  she  had  distinctly  heard  her  son  Cla- 
vel's  voice.  But  she  was  so  overcome  by  the 
shock — his  voice  having  aroused  her  from  sleep — 
that  although  she  was  intensely  anxious  to  know 
what  evil  scheme  had  brought  him  there  in  the  dead 
of  the  night,  she  had  not  the  power  to  move  until, 
the  alarm  being  given,  Mrs.  Blythe  had  come  to  her 
and  assisted  her  to  dress. 

Mrs.  Repsneider  repeated  that  she  could  not 
be  mistaken ;  she  was  certain  it  was  Clavel's  voice 
she  had  heard.  She  begged  me  to  do  all  in  my 
power  to  unravel  the  mystery,  and  said  that  if  called 
upon  she  was  willing  to  testify  to  what  she  had 
affirmed.  Thereupon  she  fainted,  and  would  have 
fallen  had  I  not  caught  her  attenuated  form  in  my 
arms. 

Slight  and  fragile  and  deadly  pale,  as  she  was,  she 
looked  to  the  full  the  Roman  woman  with  her  calm, 
resolute  face,  and  her  unwavering  eyes,  when  she 
declared  that  if  called  upon  she  was  willing  to  testify 
to  what  she  had  heard.  We  bore  her  to  her  cham- 
ber, and  after  she  had  begun  to  revive  I  left  her  to 
the  care  of  Mrs.  Blythe,  glad  that  I  had  spared  her 
any  confirmation  of  her  suspicions  by  revealing  to 
her  what  I  knew  of  Clavel's  connection  with  the 
plot. 

As  I  came  out  of  Mrs.  Repsneider's  room  I  en- 
countered Lois,  the  cook,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
who  came  upon  me  with  a  stout  grip,  demanding  of 
me  if  I  had  been  murdered,  and  what  dreadful  thing 


230  BRINKA: 

had  happened.  I  shook  her  off  with  a  word  of  ex- 
planation, and  bade  her  see  if  she  could  assist  Mrs. 
Blythe,  as  Mrs.  Repsneider  was  ill.  At  the  door  of 
the  long  entry  below  stairs  I  found  Dick,  who  had 
saddled  horses  standing  in  readiness ;  and  the  light 
of  day  beginning  to  dawn,  I  concluded  to  ride 
over  to  New  London  and  consult  with  Mr.  Coil,  as 
a  preliminary  step,  if  he  would  see  me  at  so  early  an 
hour. 

It  must  have  been  between  two  and  three  o'clock 
when  the  house  at  Elm  Ridge  was  entered  and 
Professor  Wye  carried  from  it,  and  by  the  time  I 
reached  Mr.  Coil's  house  the  town-clock  was  strik- 
ing five. 

I  sent  up  my  card  by  the  sleepy  servant-girl,  who 
answered  my  ring  at  his  door,  with  a  penciled  line 
on  it,  that  caused  him  to  admit  me  at  once  to  his 
chamber.  And  he  listened  and  questioned  me  from 
his  bed,  resting  on  one  elbow.  He  declared  that 
active  measures  must  at  once  be  taken,  that  it  was 
the  most  high-handed  piece  of  business  he  had  ever 
heard  of;  and  I  left  him,  at  his  request,  that  he  might 
rise  and  dress,  awaiting  him  in  his  parlor. 

All  that  New  London  official  ingenuity  could  de- 
vise was  done,  but  to  no  avail.  No  clue  to  the 
mystery  could  be  found.  They  declared  at  Gavel's 
billiard-rooms  that  he  had  started  for  New  York 
with  some  friends  in  the  one  o'clock  train  of  the 
afternoon  previous  to  take  the  steamer  for  Europe. 

Finding  how  little  could  be  accomplished  toward 
the  restoration  of  Professor  Wye,  I  concluded  to  go 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  2\\ 

to  New  York  and  set  some  of  the  sharp  detectives  of 
that  city  on  the  track  of  Clavel  and  Nancy  Redwood. 

After  putting  some  necessary  things  into  a  valise 
I  sought  Mrs.  Blythe,  Mrs.  Repsneider  being  too  ill 
to  leave  her  room,  and  imparted  to  her  my  intention 
of  starting  at  once  for  New  York. 

"  Keep  up  your  heart,  dear  son,"  said  she,  beam- 
ing on  me  with  the  cheerfulest  smile,  her  eyes 
swimming  with  tears.  "  One  might  know  the  earth 
was  round,  'cause  things  comes  round  so.  We're 
up  sometimes  and  down  others,  and  it's  onpossible 
at  once  to  strike  the  happy  pre-medium ;  but  it'll 
come,  you'll  see.  Clavel's  got  the  better  on  you 
now,  Caryl,  as  Saul  got  the  better  of  David  for  a 
season.  But,  as  Huldah,  the  wife  of  Shallum,  pro- 
phesied evil  to  the  wicked  in  Jerusalem,  which  was 
to  be  spared  for  a  time  for  the  good  King  Josiah's 
sake,  so  I  d'  know  but  I  might  prophesy  that  even  as 
the  just  Asa  smote  the  wicked  Zerah,  so  the  time  '11 
come  when  you  shall  bring  this  wicked  Clavel  low 
with  the  dust.  They  say  that  even  if  he's  caught  and 
comes  to  trial  he'll  git  free,  inasmuch's  he  can  prove 
a  lullaby — -which,  I  pesume,  means  a-puttin'  of  jus- 
tice asleep.  But  I  d'  know's  I  know  about  his  bein' 
able  to  prove  a  lullaby  ;  there's  you  and  Roy  see 
him  in  the  afternoon  with  that  disreputable  charac- 
ter and — " 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  have  found  two  persons 
who  saw  him  on  this  side  of  the  river  after  ten 
o'clock.  But  the  difficulty  is  to  find  him  and  the 
others,  they  have  hidden  away  so  effectually." 


232 


BRINK  A  : 


"Oh!"  returned  Mrs.  Blythe,  cheerily,  "we'll 
hope  he'll  git  caught,  and  that  through  his  discom- 
fiture the  dear  Professor  '11  git  restored  to  us.  Ha- 
gar  hoped  for  Ishmael,  and  he  riz  up  to  be  a  mighty 
power.  Queen  Esther  hoped  for  her  people,  and 
King  Ahashueras  brought  the  wicked  Haman  low, 
or's  I  should  say,  hung  him  high.  But  I'm  a-keep- 
in'  on  you." 

I  gave  Mrs.  Blythe  a  message  for  Mrs.  Rep- 
sneider,  who  was  sleeping,  after  a  protracted  period 
of  wakefulness. 

"  Yes,  poor  dear  lady,  she  did  nothin'  but  go  into 
one  faint  after  another — or  comma,  as  the  doctors 
calls  them ;  I  pesume  the  doctors  call  the  faints 
commas  because  it  isn't  a  full  period  to  life,  though 
they  look  like  it.  And  they  come,  the  commas,  I 
mean,  in  her  case,  from  nothin'  but  trouble  of  mind, 
dejection  of  spirits,  and  her  system  fell  a  victim  to 
it.  But  she's  better  now,  and  I'll  give  her  your  exact 
words  as  soon  as  she  wakes." 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


233 


XXIV. 
ON   THE   SOUND. 

BEING  well  on  in  the  afternoon,  I  concluded 
that  after  I  had  seen  the  selectmen  and  other 
officials  again,  I  would  go  down  the  Sound  by  boat 
that  night,  as  it  would  be  too  late  to  do  anything  in 
New  York  until  the  next  morning.  I  had  just  fin- 
ished all  I  could  do  in  New  London,  which  was 
very  little  at  the  best,  and  was  coming  out  of  the 
post-office,  having  mailed  a  hastily  written  letter  to 
Roy  Hildreth,  when  my  eyes  fell  on  a  young  lady 
who  was  being  very  punctiliously  assisted  into  a 
carriage,  in  front  of  the  Crocker  House,  by  a  gen- 
tleman in  a  travelling  suit. 

"  What  a  lovely  face,"  was  my  thought,  as  I 
looked  at  her  more  closely.  "  The  most  exqui- 
sitely beautiful  face  I  ever  saw,"  was  my  second 
thought.  The  bright  lights  of  the  hotel  were  stream- 
ing down  full  upon  her,  and  my  third  thought,  with 
a  great  leap  of  my  heart,  was,  that  she  was  no  other 
than  the  Countess  Brinka  herself.  I  looked  at  her 
with  an  eager  glance,  satisfied  that  I  was  right, 
when  an  answering  light  of  recognition  suddenly 
shone  in  her  eyes  as  they  met  mine,  and  she  paused 
with  her  foot  on  the  carriage -steps. 


234  BRINK  A: 

"  It  is — it  must  be — it  can  be  no  other.  Papa, 
it  is  Caryl — Mr.  Wye !"  she  exclaimed,  and  as  I 
stepped  forward  she  extended  her  hand  and  I 
clasped  it  in  friendly  greeting,  and  then  relinquished 
it  to  shake  hands  with  her  father,  who  expressed 
s-urprise  that  we  should  have  recognized  each  other 
after  so  many  years  ;  as  many  as  eight,  he  thought. 

"  Six  years,  papa,"  amended  Brinka,  with  a  smile. 

"We  have  but  just  arrived  in  town,  Mr.  Wye," 
said  the  Duke,  formally,  though  with  more  warmth 
or  concentration  of  manner  than  he  was  wont  to 
manifest.  "And  we  were  going  to  drive  out  to  Elm 
Ridge,  even  as  late  in  the  evening  as  it  is,  to  learn 
the  particulars  of  this  report  about  Professor  Wye's 
having  been  taken  by  force  from  his  house,  and  to 
see  if  there  is  anything  we  can  do  in  the  shocking 
affair.  We  heard  only  this  afternoon  of  the  trouble 
you  are  in,  and  started  at  once  for  New  London — 
though  the  proposition,  I  must  admit,  was  my 
daughter's." 

I  expressed  my  acknowledgment  of  the  kindness  ; 
and  Mr.  Vaughan  proposing  that  we  should  adjourn 
into  the  hotel,  for  the  particulars,  we  repaired  to  his 
private  parlor,  preceded  by  Roberts,  who  took 
possession  of  my  valise,  as  glad  to  see  me,  appa- 
rently, as  either  Mr.  Vaughan  or  the  Countess 
Brinka. 

Mr.  Vaughan  was  more  moved  than  I  thought 
his  cold  nature  capable  of  being,  and  Brinka's  eyes 
were  full  of  tender  commiseration  as  I  finished  tell- 
ing all  there  was  to  tell — avoiding  any  allusion  to 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


235 


the  two  phantom  figures  I  had  seen  in  the  haunted 
house,  never  having,  in  fact,  spoken  of  them  to  any 
one  but  Professor  Wye  and  Hildreth. 

"  Papa,"  said  Brinka,  after  I  had  declared  my  in- 
tention had  been  to  go  to  New  York  that  night,  but 
that  I  should  be  most  happy  to  return  to  Elm 
Ridge  with  them,  and  start  later  on  in  the  week,  "  we 
will  go  down  to  New  York  with  Mr.  Wye,  and 
render  what  assistance  we  can.  The  New  York 
detectives,  about  whose  wonderful  sagacity  we  hear 
so  much,  can  surely  track  these  men.  I  shall  not 
rest  until  Professor  Wye  is  restored  to  his  home — 
such  a  good  man — so  excelling  most  men.  We 
surely  can  be  of  some  help  to  Mr.  Wye  in  this  ter- 
rible calamity." 

"  A  terrible  calamity,  indeed,  my  dear,"  returned 
the  Duke.  "  It  shall  be  as  you  say,  my  darling," 
he  added,  resting  his  eyes  on  his  daughter  with  the 
same  overweening  fondness  of  look,  and  in  so  ex- 
actly the  same  tone  and  words  I  had  heard  him 
use  years  before,  that  I  almost  expected,  as  was 
his  wont  in  those  days,  to  see  him  caress  the  dark 
masses  of  her  beautiful  hair  or  draw  her  slender 
form  upon  his  knee.  But  the  gentle  dignity,  the 
air  of  quiet  reserve,  that  the  years  had  woven  like 
a  halo  around  her — although  her  head  was  in  close 
proximity  to  the  reach  of  his  hand,  as  she  sat  on  a 
Turkish  ottoman,  or  a  pile  of  cushions  beside  him — 
seemed  to  render  her  sacred  and  inaccessible  to  his 
touch.  This  charming  inaccessibility,  a  subtile 
pride  of  purity  that  distinguished  her  bearing,  so 


236  BRINKA: 

impressed  me  that  the  poet's  old-time  myth  of  the 
lion's  turning  to  flee  from  the  maiden  so  endowed, 
came  to  my  mind. 

In  my  great  present  trouble  this  unexpected 
meeting  with  the  Countess  Brinka  and  her  father, 
her  frank  and  sincere  condolence  and  Mr.  Vaughan's 
practical  offers  of  counsel  and  aid  were  of  incal- 
culable benefit  and  comfort  to  me,  deprived  as  I  was 
of  Roy  Hildreth's  presence  and  ready  sympathy, 
and  in  rather  a  blundering  way,  I  thought,  or 
feared,  I  expressed  my  appreciation  of  the  same. 

On  looking  at  the  time  it  proved  to  be  not  far 
from  ten,  and  Mr.  Vaughan,  making  some  demur 
about  going  in  the  boat,  proposed  the  cars  instead. 
"  You  know,  my  dear,  you  have  never  been  inside 
of  one  of  those  sound  steamers,  and  they  are  apt  to 
be  very  crowded,  and  with  an  indiscriminate  class  of 
people,  I  am  told.  We  can  have  a  parlor  car  to  our- 
selves, if  we  wish.  What  do  you  say,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Let  us  hear  what  Mr.  Wye  says  about  the  boat, 
papa — living  here,  he  will  know,"  returned  the 
Countess  Brinka,  with  a  gentle  decision,  so  quietly 
uttered,  and  so  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  it  was 
easy  enough  to  see  which  of  the  two  did  most  of 
the  deciding.  And  Mr.  Vaughan  turned  to  me  with 
such  polite  deference  I  was  quite  taken  aback. 

"  The  boats  are  very  pleasant  and  very  orderly," 
I  managed  to  say.  "  Many  of  our  best  people  prefer 
them  in  the  summer  season  to  the  cars.  Still,  if  Miss 
Vaughan  and  you  would  like  the  cars — the  sleeping 
arrangements  being  perfect — why,  of  course — " 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


237 


"  Not  in  the  least,  Mr.  Wye.  As  papa  kindly 
leaves  it  with  me,  we  will  go  by  water.  I  am  very 
partial  to  the  water.  Is  it  apt  to  be  rough  on  the 
Sound?" 

"  Never  unpleasantly  rough,"  I  returned,  "  except 
in  the  season  of  gales.  But  if  we  go  we  had  better 
start  at  once,"  I  added. 

Whilst  we  were  getting  into  the  carriage  to  drive 
the  short  distance  to  the  landing,  I  noticed  a  stal- 
wart man  stop  and  inspect  us  narrowly  as  Mr. 
Vaughan  in  addressing  me,  spoke  my  name.  I 
rather  resented  the  man's  pertinacity,  but  as  neither 
Mr.  Vaughan  or  Brinka  seemed  to  notice  him,  I 
said  nothing.  He  bowed  to  me  and  slightly  shook 
his  head,  as  though  to  enjoin  silence,  and  then 
passed  on  in  the  same  direction  we  were  bound,  I 
observed. 

Late  as  it  was  when  we  came  on  board  the  boat, 
I  succeeded  in  procuring  one  of  the  pleasantest 
and  most  commodious  state-rooms  on  the  boat  for 
the  Countess  Brinka  and  her  maid,  also  adjoining 
rooms  for  Mr.  Vaughan  and  his  man  Roberts.  But 
for  myself  I  could  get  a  room  directly  over  the  pad- 
dle-wheels only,  which  would  have  proved  about  as 
sleep-provoking,  had  I  been  inclined  for  sleep,  as  a 
continuous  beating  of  the  deafening  Indian  tam-tam. 
But  what  with  my  grief  and  perplexity  about  Pro- 
fessor Wye,  which  had  interfered  materially  with 
my  rest  since  the  night  he  was  taken  so  mysteri- 
ously from  the  house,  together  with  a  conviction 
that  had  suddenly  swept  over  me  concerning  my 


238 


BRINKA  : 


feelings  for  the  Countess  Brinka,  I  had  little  desire 
for  sleep. 

I  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  night  at  the  bow 
of  the  boat,  where  we  had  been  sitting,  Brinka  and 
I,  before  parting  for  the  night,  the  summer  breeze 
blowing  fresh  and  cool  in  our  faces,  laden  with 
the  salt  sea-air  and  an  occasional  breath  from  fra- 
grant woods  or  garden  that  was  wafted  from  the 
shore.  Mr.  Vaughan,  of  course,  was  there  with  us, 
and  joined  in  the  conversation,  but  I  scarcely  saw 
or  heard  him,  although  I  managed  to  retain  suffi- 
cient presence  of  mind  to  make  my  replies  to  him 
intelligible,  with  what  courtesy  conventional  eti- 
quette demanded. 

I  had  from  time  to  time  pointed  out  to  Brinka, 
points  of  interest  we  passed,  and  we  had  left  the 
light-ship  of  Bartlett's  Reef  far  in  the  distance  be- 
fore good-night  was  said.  Shrouded  in  darkness 
and  silence,  the  foaming  waters  surging  past  with  a 
ceaseless,  monotonous  restful  unrest,  I  still  seemed 
to  see  her  where  she  sat  in  the  star-lit  mystery  of  the 
night,  the  lights  of  the  boat  reaching  us  but  dimly 
in  our  secluded  corner.  I  called  up  living  pictures 
of  her  grace  and  beauty,  her  charming  serenity  of 
manner,  her  many  charming  ways,  and  her  almost 
infantile  simplicity  and  unconsciousness  that  she 
was  in  any  sort  out  of  the  common  way  a  contrast 
to  the  many  fashionable  young  ladies  I  had  met  who 
had  no  thought  but  to  shine  and  captivate.  Sitting 
there  alone  with  my  dreams,  I  was  forced  to  ac- 
knowledge that  I  was  deeply,  absorbingly,  hope- 


•  AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  239 

lessly  in  love  with  her.  I  stood  before  myself 
filled  with  awe  at  the  suddenness  of  the  revelation, 
as  at  the  intensity  of  my  feelings ;  and  imbued  with 
the  idea  that  I,  in  some  way,  was  the  sole  discoverer 
of  the  passion  of  love,  that  no  one  had  ever 
loved  before  me — or,  at  least,  with  any  emotion 
worthy  of  the  name  of  love.  Entirely  too  over- 
whelmed to  think  connectedly,  or  form  one  plan 
for  the  future,  or  think  of  the  future  in  any  way,  I 
lost  myself  utterly  in  the  present. 

It  was  far  in  the  night  when,  aware  that  some  one 
had  approached  and  was  standing  near  me,  I  looked 
up  to  see  the  very  man  who  had  stopped  and  de- 
liberately surveyed  us,  and  had  bowed  to  me  as  we 
were  getting  into  the  carriage. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  said  he.  "  I  am  addressing  Mr. 
Wye,  I  believe — Mr.  Caryl  Wye  ?" 

"  That  is  my  name,"  I  responded,  looking  the 
man  full  in  the  face,  by  the  dim  light  to  which  my 
eyes  had  grown  accustomed,  at  first  unrecognizingly 
and  then  with  a  perception  of  his  being  well  known 
to  me,  though  I  could  not  place  him  as  to  who, 
when,  or  where. 

"  I  should  have  known  you,  Mr.  Wye,  by  your 
strong  resemblance  to  your  mother,  even  if  I  had 
not  heard  your  name  spoken  by  the  Duke  of  Chil- 
lingford,  or  Mr.  Vaughan,  as  he  calls  himself.  Him 
I  recognized  on  the  spot,  although  it  is  fourteen 
years  since  I  saw  him  for  a  few  hours  only — under 
very  peculiar  and  trying  circumstances." 

I  had  the  clue,  and  I  exclaimed,  "  Captain  Cor- 
rie !"  as  I  grasped  his  hand. 


240 


BRIXKA  : 


With  the  smile  I  well  remembered,  he  said,  as  he 
responded  to  my  hand-shake :  "  Yes,  Captain 
Corrie !" 

The  recognition  was  so  sudden  it  moved  me  be- 
yond measure.  And  through  my  mind  came 
thronging,  with  a  rush,  Red  House  memories.  The 
turbulent  scene  in  the  old  kitchen — his  rescuing 
me  from  the  fury  of  the  woman  Nancy — my  long 
illness  in  the  old  garret-room,  and  his  unwavering 
kindness  though  it  all — our  memorable  flight  from 
the  scene  of  my  many  terrors,  and  the  strong, 
almost  frantic,  affection  I  had  conceived  for  him, 
which  made  our  final  parting  at  Professor  Wye's 
such  a  heart-ache  and  heart-break  to  me. 

Something  of  what  was  in  my  thought  I  beheld 
reflected  in  his  eyes,  as  they  looked  at  me  with  that 
softened  suffusion  they  wore  at  times  years  ago 
when  he  was  much  moved.  And  something  of  what 
so  stirred  me  I  heard  in  the  thickened  voice  with 
which  he  spoke. 

"  I  arrived  in  New  London  last  evening  only,  Mr. 
Wye,"  said  he,  in  the  grave,  measured  tone  of  old, 
"just  before  I  chanced  upon  you.  Hearing  your 
name  spoken  as  I  was  passing  the  hotel,  I  saw  at  a 
glance  that  the  tall,  well-grown  young  man,  with  a 
presence  that  any  young  man  might  envy,  was  no 
other  than  the  pretty,  once  little  pale  boy  of 
seven  or  so,  that  fourteen  years  ago  I  had  carried  in 
my  arms  away  from  a  den  of  degradation  and  crime 
into — .  Mr.  Wye,  the  Professor  has  done  for  you 
what  was  out  of  my  power  to  do,  and  your  mother's 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


241 


prayer  is  answered  and  her  fondest  wish  fulfilled." 
And  Captain  Corrie  paused,  looking  thoughtfully 
from  me,  out  through  the  darkness,  on  the  bright 
sparkles  of  the  phosphorescent  waters. 

"  How  did  you  find  me  ?"  I  asked. 

"  I  kept  the  carriage  in  sight  and  saw  you  go  on 
board.  I  would  have  spoken  to  you,  but  saw  no 
opportunity.  When  it  came  to  the  point  I  did 
not  like  to  intrude,  until  at  last  I  made  bold.  I 
am  a  detective  officer,  Mr.  Wye.  I  started  to  New 
London  on  purpose  to  offer  my  services,  for  I  could 
not  rest  content,  knowing  Professor  Wye,  of  all  men 
in  the  world,  to  be  in  such  a  bad  box.  Have  you 
any  suspicions  as  to  who  is  in  it  ?" 

"  I  am  very  sure  as  to  who  are  in  it,"  I  returned, 
grateful  for  Captain  Corrie's  interest  in  Professor 
Wye,  and  for  the  offer  of  his  services,  feeling  cer- 
tain he  would  be  most  faithful  in  rendering  them. 
"I  shall  be  glad  of  your  help,  Captain  Corrie,"  I 
added,  "  though  you  may  not  like  to  hear  who — " 
and  I  paused. 

"  Has  she — has  Nance  anything  to  do  with  this, 
Mr.  Wye  ?"  he  asked,  his  grave,  intent  look  piercing 
through  the  dim  light  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  my 
face  awaiting  my  reply. 

"  I  am  afraid  she  has — that  is,  I  know  she  has,"  I 
returned. 

"  I  suspected  it.  I  knew  she  was  in  New  London 
for  no  good;  and — but  Professor  Wye  ! — That  I  did 
not  suspect.  I  did  not  dream  of  any  harm  to  him." 

"  His  nephew  is,  unfortunately,  the  one  most  im- 


242 


BRINK  A  : 


plicated,"  I  said.  "  I  will  give  you  the  particulars 
when  you  are  ready  for  them.  It  is  very  little  I 
know  beyond  the  fact  that  Clavel  Repsneider 
and — that  woman  and  Noney  are  concerned  in 
spiriting  away  Professor  Wye  from  his  home.  And 
if  you  have  any  scruples  about  undertaking  to  work 
up  a  case  against  her — and  you  well  may  have — 
why — "  and  I  again  paused. 

"  It's  a  bad  business  all  around ;  but  I  shall  not 
shirk  it.  I've  never  yet — as  it  has  chanced — been 
called  upon  to  track  her,  but  I've  all  along  been  ex- 
pecting it.  She  was  my  wife,  Mr.  Wye,  is  still — for 
I've  taken  no  steps  to  free  myself,  as  I  shall  never 
marry  again ;  I  had  enough  of  it,  you  see.  But 
when  I  turned  my  back  on — on  all  that,  I  made  a 
vow  that  it  should  be  no  half-way  turning.  And 
though  I  would  not  go  in  search  of  a  pretext  to 
hunt  her  and  the  rest  down,  still,  when  it  comes  as 
a  part  of  my  faithful  duty  to  the  calling  that  gives 
me  a  chance  to  expiate  in  a  measure  the  past,  why, 
as  I  said,  I  shall  not  shirk  it.  Therefore,  if  you  will 
trust  me  to  go  into  this  business  for  you,  Mr.  Wye, 
I  promise  to  spare  no  one  or  nothing." 

"  How  can  I  help  but  trust  the  matter  in  your 
hands,  Captain  Corrie?"  said  I.  "  It  is  what  I  am 
going  to  New  York  for — good  detectives,  and  to  set 
them  to  work." 

"  So  I  supposed.  You  cannot,  of  course,  know 
how  able  a  detective  I  may  be;  but  I  have  done 
some  good  work  since  I  became  one  of  the  force. 
I've  made  some  reputation,  I  assure  you." 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  243 

"  I  can  well  believe  that,"  I  answered,  warmly. 

We  had  been  speaking  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  not 
to  be  overheard,  and  Captain  Corrie,  giving  me  an  ad- 
dress on  a  card,  told  me  I  would  find  him  there  about 
noon  if  I  would  call  to  talk  the  matter  over.  He 
then  asked  me  if  I  had  any  curiosity  to  know  any- 
thing of  the  old  Red  House  inmates,  and  to  my 
affirmative  reply  informed  me  that  old  Sally  died 
an  inmate  of  the  Boston  Almshouse  some  years 
ago. 

"  It  was  while  I  was  in  San  Francisco,  before  I 
left  for  New  York,"  continued  Captain  Corrie,  "  and 
I've  been  in  New  York  upward  of  six  years — all 
the  time  you  were  traveling  in  Europe  and  the 
countries  abroad,  Mr.  Wye.  You  remember  Charm- 
ing Charlie  ?" 

"  Perfectly  well,"  I  replied,  "  and  have  often  won- 
dered what  became  of  him." 

"  He  is  still  in  San  Francisco,  where  he  married  a 
nice  girl  and  has  a  promising  family.  He  teaches 
the  flute,  and  is  quite  looked  up  to  as  a  musician. 
He  always  had  a  turn  that  way,  you  know." 

"  Charming  Charlie's  flute  is  about  the  only  plea- 
sant memory  I  retain  of  the  Red  House,"  I  re- 
turned. 

"  You  were  a  very  wee  kid  in  those  days,  Mr. 
Wye,  and  a  very  innocent  one  to  be  subjected  to 
the  hardships  and  horrors  of  that  infer — of  the  Red 
House.  I  shall  never  cease  reproaching  myself 
for—" 

"  Ah,  but  those  days  have  long  passed  by,"  said 


244 


BRINKA  : 


I,  hastily,  observing  the  shade  of  trouble  I  well  re- 
membered settling  on  Captain  Corrie's  face ;  "  and 
the  good  that  has  come  out  of  them  will  more  than 
balance  the  harm." 

"  It  is  to  be  hoped  so,"  he  fervently  ejaculated,  in 
the  deep,  rumbling  bass  he  always  used  when  much 
moved. 

"  Oh,  I  am  certain  of  it,"  I  affirmed,  "  and  to 
think  of  Charming  Charlie's  having  turned  out  so 
well !  What  is  his  name  ?  I  never  knew." 

"  West — Charles  West,"  replied  Captain  Corrie, 
the  troubled  look  still  on  his  face. 

"  And  the  rest  of  them,  what  of  the  rest  ?  Have 
all  the  rest  reformed  ?"  I  asked,  adding  that  I  hoped 
they  had. 

"  Not  much,"  he  returned,  in  the  prevalent  slang. 
"  Hi  and  Snake  are  now  in  Sing  Sing,  serving  out 
their  time  for  a  very  ugly  burglary.  Nothing  good 
for  them,  you  see.  They  got  twenty  years,  there 
being  assault  with  intent  to  kill  proved.  And  Wiry 
Jack  (he's  a  man  now  of  twenty-six,  and  as  incor- 
rigible a  one  as  they  make  them),  he's  around  still, 
is  in  with  Nance  and  Ranee  Noney — nothing  good 
for  him  either,  you  see.  I've  kept  track  of  them  all  ; 
it's  in  the  way  of  my  business,  you  know.  But 
while  I  keep  track  of  them  I  take  good  care  they 
get  little  or  no  track  of  me." 

"  And  Zebra  ?  Sam  Bowen  said  he  had  cut  loose 
from  the  Red  House  gang  (those  were  his  words) 
about  the  time  Charming  Charlie  went,  just  after 
you  took  me  away."^ 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


245 


But  though  I  asked,  and  Captain  Corrie  was  tell- 
ing me  how  it  was  they  managed  to  get  away  "  out 
of  it,"  as  he  said,  I  only  half  heard  him,  for  Red 
House  reminiscences  again  crowded  my  mind — 
how  they  looked,  what  they  said,  the  very  words 
they  used — and  the  old  Red  House  taint  seemed 
still  to  cling  to  me.  And  the  old  vexed  and  vexing 
question,  that  had  haunted  me  for  so  long  a  time 
after  I  went  to  Professor  Wye's,  started  into  life 
again  as  to  whether,  after  all,  I  might  not  be  con- 
sidered one  of  them,  having  actually  lived  in  among 
them  those  three  wretched,  compulsory  years  of  my 
infant  life.  It  was  only  by  an  effort  of  will  I  shook 
off  these  morbid  fancies,  and  gave  full  attention  to 
what  Captain  Corrie  was  saying,  Zebra  still  his 
theme. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Wye,  it  is  the  most  remarkable  thing  I 
ever  knew,"  he  was  reiterating,  "  the  very  strangest. 
He  has  a  perfect  genius  for  it — for  making  money, 
I  mean.  But  one  must  not  call  him  '  Zebra,'  Mr. 
Wye.  He  has  dropped  that  with  the  old  belongings. 
I  le  has  managed  so  cleverly  that  no  one  knows  any- 
thing about  him  but  what  he  has  made  of  himself — 
except  me,  of  course,  and  I  would  never  let  it  out 
— that,  of  course,  also.  He  is  known  only  as  Mr. 
Owen  Blythe.  They  call  him  Midas  on  'Change, 
for  everything  he  touches  turns  to  gold.  He  is  not 
over  twenty-six  or  seven,  and  has  made  his  mil- 
lions, strange  as  it  seems.  He  is  very  swell — the 
toniest  man  you'll  meet  on  Broadway." 

"  Is  he  living  in  New  York  ?"  I  asked. 


246  BRINK  A: 

"  Where  else  ?  Yes,  he  lives  in  New  York — 
mostly  down  in  Wall  Street.  He  has  only  to  look 
at  the  ticker  to  calculate  to  a  certainty  on  all  fluctu- 
ations of  the  market ;  and  when  stocks  are  going  to 
take  a  tumble  he  steps  in  and  helps  them  down 
lower;  and  when  they  are  low  enough  he  buys. 
And  then  when  they  are  going  up  he  waits  until 
they  are  up  high  enough,  and  then  he  sells.  And  he 
never  makes  a  mistake." 

"  In  plain  words,  he  is  a  gambler,"  said  I,  rather 
contemptuously. 

"  If  you  call  it  that,  yes,"  replied  Captain  Corrie, 
with  a  laugh.  "  But  that  kind  of  a  gambler  has  the 
law  on  his  side,  and  the  homage,  the  almost  servile 
homage,  of  the  community,  when  he  happens  to  be 
cool-headed  and  fortunate,  as  Blythe  has  proved  him- 
self. His  success  is  like  a  story  in  the  '  Arabian 
Nights.'  And  with  it  all,  he  is  very  liberal — gener- 
ous, as  they  say,  to  a  fault." 

"  I  am  very  glad  he  has  turned  out  so  well.  I 
know  his  mother — " 

"  His  mother !"  exclaimed  Captain  Corrie.  "  Do 
you  know  this,  Mr.  Wye?  Are  you  sure  of  it?" 
he  asked,  gravely.  "  Blythe  has  spoken  to  me  of 
his  mother,  and  with  great  feeling." 

I  related  to  Captain  Corrie  what  I  knew,  adding 
that  Professor  Wye  had  advertised  and  had  caused 
Sam  Bowen  to  make  inquiries  of  him  by  letter  to 
San  Francisco,  and  had  taken  other  steps  to  dis- 
cover Zebra's  whereabouts. 

"  Yes,  I   remember   Sam's  writing   to   find   out 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

something  of  Blythe,  but  I  knew  nothing  then  of 
him.  He  kept  himself  very  close  ;  it  has  been  only 
four  or  five  years  since  he  showed  up,  while  you 
were  in  Europe.  Does  this  Mrs.  Blythe  you  speak 
of  know  anything  of  your  surmises — of  the  Red 
House  and  that  ?" 

"  Not  a  word.  It  would  break  her  heart  to  know 
her  son  had  ever  been  in  a  place  of  that  sort.  Pro- 
fessor Wye,  in  his  advertising  and  inquiries,  had  to 
proceed  very  cautiously  for  that  reason.  She 
mourns  him  as  dead." 

"  He'd  better  have  been  dead  if  he  hadn't  cut  and 
run  from  it,  as  he  did.  It  was  Ranee  Noney  who 
brought  him  to  the  Red  House ;  he  picked  him  up 
in  the  streets  of  Boston,  a  little  lost  shaver  of  five 
or  six  years  old.  I  was  for  advertising  him  and 
hunting  up  his  friends,  but  Nance  wouldn't  hear  to 
it.  And  so,  with  Ranee  Noncy  and  the  rest  to  back 
her,  I  had  to  give  in,  as  I  generally  did  in  those 
days,  the  more  dishonor  to  me.  And  if  he  hadn't 
kept  shady  when  he  cut  away,  Nance  and  Ranee 
Noney  would  have  had  him  back  again,  for  he  was 
as  bright  as  chain-lightning  and  as  sharp  as  a  Sheffield 
IXL  blade.  But  his  mother!  Well,  she  needn't 
be  ashamed  of  him  nozv,  and  she  never  need  be  told 
anything  of  that  infer — of  the  Red  House,  and 
Blythe'll  never  tell.  He's  a  perfect  fire-proof  iron 
safe  for  reticence." 

"  No,  she  need  never  know,"  I  returned.  "  I 
must  see  him  as  soon  as  I  get  to  New  York.  It  is 
well  for  her  sake  he  is  all  you  say  he  is." 


248 


BRINK  A  : 


"  One  word  more,  Mr.  Wye.  Does  the  Duke  of 
Chillingford — does  Mr.  Vaughan  know  who  the 
man  he  gave  a  seat  in  his  carriage  really  was — a 
fugitive  from  justice? — a  housebreaker — a — ?" 
Captain  Corrie  left  his  sentence  incomplete,  his  eyes 
fairly  burning  through  the  night's  gloom  as  he  fixed 
them  on  me,  awaiting  my  answer. 

"  Mr.  Vaughan  knows  nothing  of  any  circum- 
stance connected  with  the  Red  House;  nothing 
of  my  life  there,  nothing  of  you.  He  never  mani- 
fested any  curiosity  about  where  you  took  me  from, 
or  about  you,  and  has  never  been  told." 

"  His  nature  is  too  cold  for  curiosity,  and  he  has 
too  high  a  sense,  in  his  own  way,  of  honor,  or  dig- 
nity, or  pride,  to  manifest  any  curiosity  if  he  felt  it. 
I  had  rather  almost  any  one  in  the  wide  world  knew 
those  infer — those  wretched  years  of  my  past  record 
than  he.  You  will  call  at  the  bureau,  Mr.  Wye,  to- 
morrow, I  should  say  to-day,  about  noon  ?" 

I  replied  that  I  certainly  would,  and  Captain  Cor- 
rie, with  another  grip  of  my  hand,  left  me  to  my 
meditations  once  more.  I  found  they  had  been  so 
broken  in  upon  by  my  conversation  with  him,  that 
I  sought  my  room,  and  in  spite  of  the  ceaseless 
thud  and  trundle  of  the  paddle-wheels  I  fell  asleep 
to  dream  that  I  was  employed  by  a  great  military 
despot  to  beat  an  endless  rataplan.  I  slept  through 
the  noise  of  the  boat's  landing,  awaking  only  at  the 
sound  of  the  gong  for  breakfast.  I  dressed  hastily, 
performing  what  ablutions  I  could  in  my  limited 
time  and  space;  and  sought  the  saloon,  where  I 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


249 


found  the  Countess  Brinka  and  her  father  had  but 
just  emerged  from  their  state-rooms. 

Upon  my  representation  of  the  excellent  quality 
of  the  breakfasts,  Mr.  Vaughan  proposed  taking 
that  meal  on  board.  The  Countess  Brinka,  bidding 
her  maid  put  together  their  belongings,  and  go  with 
Roberts  to  get  her  breakfast,  took  my  proffered 
arm,  and,  with  her  father  beside  her,  we  proceeded 
on  our  way  to  the  breakfast-room. 

"  Mille  pardon !"  cried  Brinka's  maid,  a  quick- 
witted little  French  soubrette,  suddenly  re-appear- 
ing, "but  will  Madame  the  Countess  be  so  very 
good  as  to  tell  me  where  is  the  salle  6.  manger?" 

"  Roberts  will  show  you,  Lisette,"  returned 
Madame  the  Countess. 

With  a  perplexed  look,  Lisette  aimlessly  wished 
still  to  know :  "  Will  Madame  the  Countess  be  so 
very  good  as  to  inform  me  is  it  to  be  a  dejeuner 
a  la  fourchette,  ou — " 

"  Je  ne  sals  quoi,  mais  riimporte,  Lisette,"  replied 
Madame  the  Countess,  smiling  pleasantly,  and 
Lisette  vanished. 

"  Insufferable !  Lisette  has  imbibed  the  true 
American  tone  since  she  came  to  this  country,"  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Vaughan,  haughtily,  the  Duke  of  Chil- 
lingford  looking  from  his  steely  gray  eyes.  "  You 
will  have  to  secure  a  new  maid,  my  dear;  such 
familiarity  is  unpardonable." 

"  Not  at  all,  dear  papa.  Lisette  means  no  harm. 
She  is  confused ;  it  is  all  new  to  her  here,"  returned 
Brinka,  sweetly.  "  She  is  a  good  little  thing.  You 


250  BRINKA: 

know  I  cannot  part  with  her  for  a  trifle,  left  to  me 
as  she  was.  Lisette's  mother,  Mr.  Wye,"  continued 
the  Countess,  addressing  me,  "  was  an  old  servant 
of  ours  in  Paris,  and  being  taken  ill  after  we  left 
France,  she  crossed  the  Atlantic  for  the  sole  pur- 
pose of  seeking  us  and  placing  Lisette  in  my  charge, 
which  she  did  almost  with  her  dying  breath.  She 
died  of  a  lingering  disease,  and  had  strength  only 
for  that.  Lisette  has  no  near  relatives  or  friends, 
and  came  just  as  Annie,  in  her  middle  age  (you  re- 
member Annie,  Mr.  Wye),  made  up  her  mind  to 
marry.  I  should  not  have  chosen  a  French  girl  for 
a  maid  otherwise.  But  Lisette  is  well  meaning  and 
faithful.  I  feel  that  she  is  a  sacred  trust — is  it  not 
so,  papa  ?" 

"  Quite  right,  my  dear,  quite  right.  You  are 
always  right,"  responded  Mr.  Vaughan,  having  sub- 
.sided  into  urbanity.  And  having  entered  the  dining- 
room,  the  waiters  with  a  flourish  were  holding  chairs 
for  us,  and  with  another  flourish  seated  us  at  table. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


251 


XXV. 

"SHE    MIGHT    BE   YOUR   SISTER." 

IF  I  had  been  better  versed  in  Love's  science,  I 
might  have  interpreted  the  soft  brightness  of 
the  Countess  Brinka's  eyes,  as  they  lingered  in 
mine,  when  she  addressed  me,  as  an  earnest  of  her 
regard  for  me.  But  I  was  too  modest  for  any  hope 
so  presumptuous ;  it  was  quite  sufficient  to  me  that 
she  was  gracious  and  beautiful.  I  compared  her, 
in  my  thought,  to  Da  Vinci's  famed  portrait  of 
the  wife  of  his  friend  Giocondo,  the  Mona  Lisa, 
before  which  I  had  spent  hours,  whilst  in'  Paris, 
studying  its  sad,  sweet,  almost  tragic  beauty,  and 
of  all  the  pictures  in  the  Louvre,  the  face,  whose 
silent,  subtile  charm  I  could  comprehend. 

"  Yes,"  thought  I,  as  the  Countess  Brinka  turned 
to  her  father  at  some  observation  of  his,  "  she  is  the 
counterpart  of  the  Giocondo.  She  has  the  same 
broad,  clear  brow ;  the  same  limpid  depth  of  eyes, 
with  a  look  in  them  of  unfathomable  import ;  the 
same  delicate  contour  of  nose  and  chin,  and  the 
small,  flexible  mouth,  serene  in  its  abiding  sweetness, 
indicative  at  once  of  tenderness  and  high  resolve — 
of  that  subtile  thing  called  soul.  Like  that  noble 
army  of  martyrs,  it  is  in  her  face  that  she  too  could 
die  for  a  principle  to  her  heart  dear." 


252  BRINKA: 

We  were  sitting  at  a  side-table  apart  from  the 
crowd,  and  I  was  opposite  to  her  and  Mr.  Vaughan, 
and  could  watch  her  face  and  note  its  ever-varying 
expression. 

Several  persons,  entering,  seated  themselves  near 
us  to  our  right,  and  would  have  passed  entirely  un- 
noticed by  me  had  not  Brinka  called  my  attention 
to  the  young  lady  of  their  party. 

"  She  bears  such  a  striking  resemblance  to  you, 
Mr.  Wye — she  might  be  your  sister.  Have  you  a 
sister,  Mr.  Wye  ?" 

"  I  cannot  say,  Miss  Vaughan.  I  can  only  say  I 
had  a  sister,  and  may  have  one  still,"  I  replied,  am- 
biguously, looking  over  at  the  young  lady  with 
quickened  interest,  to  behold  what  seemed  to  be  a 
very  familiar  face,  very  fair,  though  not  blonde,  and 
certainly  very  pretty. 

Brinka  turned,  with  an  animated  face,  full  of  her 
new  discovery,  to  her  father. 

"Assume  a  curiosity  for  once,  papa,  and  without 
seeming  to  look,  cast  your  eyes  toward  the  third 
table  from  us,  and  tell  me  if  the  young  lady  in  gray 
is  not  strikingly  like  Mr.  Wye.  Every  feature  the 
svcxiz,  feminized — that's  an  obsolete  word,  I  know. 
Don't  look  aghast,  papa,  it  expresses  just  what  I 
mean." 

"  We'll  have  the  word  reinstated,  my  dear,  in  the 
next  edition  of  Worcester's  Unabridged,"  said  Mr. 
Vaughan,  looking  up  with  a  preoccupied  smile  from 
a  pattern  in  the  damask  tablecloth  he  seemed  to 
have  been  studying.  "  But,  pardon  me,  my  dear, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS, 


253 


what  was  your  question?  I  was  for  the  moment 
absent." 

"  I  only  called  your  attention  to  the  resemblance 
to  Mr.  Wye  of  the  young  lady  in  gray,  over  there. 
The  third  table,  papa." 

"  Yes,  certainly ;  you  are  quite  right,  my  dear. 
There  is  a  remarkable  resemblance.  Mr.  Wye  should 
feel  highly  flattered,  for  the  young  lady  in  question 
is  certainly  uncommonly  handsome." 

"  Oh,  papa,  you  make  Mr.  Wye  blush !"  ex- 
claimed Brinka,  trying  not  to  laugh,  but  with  a 
very  amused  look.  "  You  should  take  a  more 
roundabout,  diplomatic  way  when  you  make  flatter- 
ing speeches." 

"  As  you  say,  my  dear,  I  acknowledge  my  error," 
returned  the  Duke,  with  a  polite  smile.  "  Mr.  Wye 
will  have  to  excuse  me1,  though  you  surely  cannot 
deny  but  that  the  young  lady  referred  to  is  emi- 
nently handsome,  and  that  yourself,  my  dear,  called 
my  attention  to  the  fact  of  her  striking  resemblance 
to  Mr.  Wye,"  and  Mr.  Vaughan  smiled  a  little  mali- 
ciously. 

"  Worse  and  worse,  papa !"  exclaimed  Brinka,  now 
fairly  breaking  into  a  low  laugh.  She  rallied  her 
father  still  further,  he  bearing  her  bantering  in 
the  serenest  sort,  that  plainly  showed  he  thought 
everything  she  said,  did,  looked,  or  laughed  perfec- 
tion (and  on  that  point,  if  on  no  other,  I  heartily 
agreed  with  him)  when,  with  a  charming  tact,  before 
her  father  could  weary  of  her  raillery,  she  wished  to 
know  if  I  thought  the  gentleman  sitting  beside  the 


254  BRINKA: 

young  lady  could  be  her  father.  "  I  am  very  much 
interested  in  her,"  she  affirmed. 

"  Possibly,  yes,"  I  returned ;  "  though  they  are 
unlike  in  feature." 

"And  unlike  in  character — that  is  sufficiently 
patent,"  declared  the  Countess.  "  Do  you  think, 
papa,  that  artificial  gentleman  can  be  the  father  of 
the  handsome  young  lady — we'll  insist  on  her  being 
handsome — "  and  the  Countess  threw  a  quick  glance 
at  her  father,  which  he  gathered  in  with  the  same 
pride  he  had  in  all  her  other  many  looks  and  ways. 

"  Quite  likely,  my  dear.  He  is  certainly  too  old 
for  her  husband — well — yes,  my  dear,  from  several 
indications,  I  judge  him  to  be  her  father.  Suppose, 
my  darling,  we  do  not  discuss  our  neighbors  any 
further." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  father !  what  would  become  of 
us,  denied  that  privilege  ?  There  is  nothing  more 
delightful  than  to  speculate  on  character,  and  talk 
people  over  ;  formulate  them — that  is  the  accepted 
word.  You  must  not  go  back  of  your  favorite  Pope, 
papa,  who  tells  you  the  proper  study  of  mankind  is 
man." 

Mr.  Vaughan  gave  his  daughter  a  curious  look, 
half  reproving,  half  amused,  and  wholly  fond. 

"  I  understand,  papa,"  returned  Brinka,  with  a 
low  laugh,  "  you  would  say  that  for  a  Countess  the 
cant  phrase,  '  go  back  of/  is  reprehensible.  But, 
recollect,  I  am  an  American  Countess,  and  an 
American  Countess  may  be  pardoned  a  slight  lati- 
tude in  the  use  of  American  idioms." 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


255 


"  What  a  commentary  on  your  adopted  country, 
my  dear — quite  a  philippic  in  brief." 

"  My  native  country,  you  mean,  papa,"  corrected 
the  Countess,  with  a  smile.  "And  permit  me  to 
say,  papa,  your  metaphor  lacks  soundness.  The 
Macedonian  monarch  would  never  have  quailed  if 
Demosthenes  had  treated  him  to  philippics  so  mild 
as  mine." 

"  Your  native  country,  did  you  say,  my  dear  ?" 
asked  the  Duke,  smiling  blandly,  ignoring  the  last 
half  of  his  daughter's  remark.  "  Tme,  I  recollect 
you  were  born  here  in  America.  Your  native 
country  owes  you  a  vote  of  thanks  for  compliment- 
ing it  in  the  use  of  its  choice — idioms." 

"  Don't  be  caustic  and  cynical,  papa,"  returned 
Brinka,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  The  ladies  of  your 
country,  you  know,  are  becoming  profuse  in  their 
use  of — idioms.  Slang,  if  I  may  use  the  word, 
has  become  quite  the  rage  with  them,  in  fact ;  the 
newspapers  comment  on  it,  you  remember,  uttering 
philippics  and  that." 

"  The  ladies  of  my  country,  my  dear  ?" 

"  For  one,  that  saucy  young  Duchess  of  Liddes- 
dale." 

"  Oh,  she  !  A  lady,  certainly,  my  dear,  but  a  little 
inclined  to  be  what  is  denominated — fast,  I  must 
admit." 

"And  that  witty,  scheming  little  Lady  Amelia 
Hazlehurst,  and  the  Marchioness  of — " 

"  Hold,  my  dear,  enough !"  interrupted  Mr. 
Vaughan,  with  a  noiseless  laugh.  "  In  granting 


256  BRINK'A: 

the  deterioration  of  the  age,  I  hope  you  have  no 
intention  of  patterning  after  these  modern  in- 
stances ?" 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,  my  father.  I  have  no  inten- 
tion of  the  kind." 

"  You  make  me  happy,  my  dear." 

"  Mettre  bos  les  armcs,  papa,"  continued  the 
Countess,  laughing  softly.  "  You  will  give  Mr. 
Wye  the  impression  that  you  regard  me  in  the 
light  of  a  dangerous  explosive,  ready  to  go  off 
with  a  bang  and  a  flash,  and  disappear  in  smoke, 
when  I  should  prefer  being  considered  a  model 
young  lady." 

"  And  a  very  original  one,"  returned  Mr.  Vaughan, 
as  he  looked  at  his  daughter  with  stately  and  admir- 
ing regard. 

I  could  see  that,  although  he  worshiped  her  in 
his  cold,  unimpassioned  way,  he  understood  as  little 
of  her  real  nature  as  though  she  were  the  being 
made  of  an  element — of  flame  and  air,  of  ray  and 
rainbow — she  seemed.  And  whilst  the  perfection  of 
refinement  was  in  all  she  said,  in  every  picturesque 
movement  of  her  superb  head,  in  her  dainty,  high- 
bred air,  I  could  see  also  that  her  spirited  ways 
disquieted  whilst  they  charmed  him. 

"  Va  pour  t  original  r  she  cried,  laughing.  "  One 
can  see  an  original  over  there,  in  the  young  lady's 
father — taking  it  for  granted  he  is  her  father.  I 
have  been  watching  him.  He  belongs  to  the  Wolf- 
in-sheep's-clothing  type.  I  don't  like  him.  The 
young  lady  herself  is  of  the  long-suffering  type — a 


AN  A  M ERIC  AN  CO  UNTESS.  2  5  ? 

Saint — Saint  Cecelia  in  person.  Carlo  Dolci  was  a 
prophetic  artist  when  he  painted  her  portrait  so  long 
before  she  was  born." 

"  A  pretty  conceit,"  I  replied.  "  The  old  metemp- 
sychosian  philosophers  and  the  modern  evolu- 
tionists might  say  that  Dolci's  model  was  the  young 
lady  herself  in  one  of  her  anterior  existences." 

"A  fascinating  philosophy  that,  Mr.  Wye,"  said 
Mr.  Vaughan,  taking  me  up  seriously.  "  But  so 
full  of  errors  as  well  as  truths,  and  so  little  compre- 
hended by  the  ordinary  mind,  as  to  render  it  a 
dangerous  as  well  as  fascinating  study." 

Putting  aside  her  father's  observation,  Brinka 
pursued  the  subject  that  interested  her  so  much  with : 

"  Suppose,  after  all,  she  should  turn  out  to  be 
your  sister,  Mr.  Wye?  You  tell  me  you  had  a 
sister,  and  may  have  one  still.  I  recall  perfectly 
the  man  who  was  taking  you  to  Professor  Wye's 
school  years  ago,  and  although  I  was  very  small,  I 
quite  recollect  all  he  said — that  your  father  took 
your  sister  with  him  when  he  went  away  and  left  your 
mother.  That  man  over  there  looks  as  though  he 
could  do  a  cruel  deed  like  that."  The  Countess 
spoke  with  a  quiet  disdain,  that  seemed  to  me  very 
charming. 

"  Who  knows  ?"  I  returned.  "  She  may,  indeed, 
be  my  sister.  She  looks  very  like  a  miniature 
I  have  of  my  mother.  And,  furthermore,"  I  added, 
smiling  at  the  intentness  with  which  the  Countess 
Brinka  was  listening,  "  the  miniature  itself  is  very 
like  Dolci's  St.  Cecelia.  Others  as  well  as  myself 


258 


BRIXKA  t 


have  observed  the  resemblance — my  friend,  Roy 
Hildreth,  for  one." 

Mr.  Vaughan,  who  had  been  stealing  occasional 
critical  glances  at  the  young  lady,  said  :  "  St.  Cecelia, 
um — m,  yes,  my  dear,  she  undoubtedly  is  very  like 
Carlo  Dolci's  Saint  Cecelia." 

I  could  see  the  Duke  of  Chillingford  was  drawing 
silent  comparisons  between  her  and  his  daughter — 
such  a  marked  contrast  each  to  the  other.  Delicately 
fair  the  one,  delicately  dark  the  other — a  rich  bit  of 
coloring,  so  full  of  vital  life,  of  verve,  that  she  seemed 
inspired  with  it  to  her  slender  finger  tips.  The  fair 
one,  with  her  soft,  blue  eyes,  full  of  a  solemn  light, 
her  gold-brown  hair  arranged  with  an  almost  puritan- 
ical simplicity,  a  look  of  celestial  resignation  on  a  face 
indicative  of  an  intellect  spirituelle  rather  than 
strong,  might  already  be  more  than  half  the  angel 
she  seemed.  For  the  other,  the  dark  one,  cast  in  a 
more  heroic  mold,  reserved  strength  was  apparent 
in  the  quiet  of  her  manner ;  courage,  resolution,  and 
a  world  of  tenderness,  as  well,  were  discernible  in 
the  dark  depths  of  her  eyes ;  and  a  rare  intelligence 
in  the  breadth  of  her  brow,  which  her  dark,  abun- 
dant hair,  so  low  growing,  but  half  concealed. 

Mr.  Vaughan  was  saying :  "  You  have  quite  im- 
bued me  with  your  curiosity  and  enthusiasm  about 
these  people,  my  dear.  I  should  like  to  know  more 
of  your  Saint  Cecelia." 

"  Cannot  we  devise  some  scheme  to  bring  about 
an  introduction?"  asked  Brinka.  "Much  as  I 
should  like  to  think  that  she  is  your  sister,  Mr. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

Wye,"  and  the  Countess  turned  her  dark  eyes  full 
upon  me,  almost  taking  my  breath  away  with  their 
splendor,  "  I  should  not  like  to  think  that  artificial, 
time-serving,  intensely  selfish  man — for  he  is  all 
these,  and  more — is  your  father." 

"  You  certainly  have  a  remarkable  genius  for  ad- 
jectives, my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Vaughan. 

"  I  wish  to  call  your  attention,  Mr.  Wye,  to  papa's 
delightful  complaisance.  While  he  thinks  my  spec- 
ulations on  our  neighbors  savor  too  much  of  gossip 
to  be  good  form,  fearing  they  may  observe  our 
comments,  he  would  delude  me  into  thinking  that 
he  also  is  curious  about  them." 

"  My  sin  has  found  me  out,  has  it,  my  dear  ?" 
returned  Mr.  Vaughan. 

"  But  let  me  tell  you,  papa,  the  artificial  gentleman 
is  entirely  taken  up  with  the  gorgeous  lady  on  the 
other  side  of  him,  and  the  gorgeous  lady  is  occupied 
with  herself  and  her  own  gorgeousness,  al  solito. 
The  young  lady  is  too  sad  and  too  distraite  to  ob- 
serve us,  and  the  Mephistophilic  gentleman  at  her 
right,  who  is  paying  such  assiduous  court  to  her, 
which  her  very  silence  repels,  and  which  takes  him 
aback  at  every  turn,  is  too  persistently  determined 
in  gaining  his  point,  and  compelling  her  attention  to 
his  admiration  of  her,  to  give  any  heed  to  us." 

As  Mr.  Vaughan  was  replying  to  his  daughter's 
arguments  with  courtly  persiflage,  which  provoked 
her  laughter,  I  regarded  attentively  the  gentleman 
she  had  denominated  artificial,  a  man  evidently  of 
forty-five  or  fifty,  elaborately  made  up  to  look 


2(50  BRINKA 

young.  I  saw  that  notwithstanding  he  was  with 
great  pains  patched  piecemeal  to  give  him  com- 
plexion and  color,  and  conceal  the  ravages  of  time, 
or  an  unhealthy  life,  or  both ;  and,  notwithstanding 
the  padding  out  into  artificial  roundness  of  his 
shrunken  muscles,  he  presented  altogether  a  very 
damaged  appearance ;  as  though,  when  the  last  touch 
was  laid  on  and  the  last  contrivance  of  art  ex- 
pended, he  had  been  kiln-dried  in  them  until  he 
was  very  brittle  throughout. 

This  brittleness  manifested  itself  by  a  certain  care- 
ful stiffness  of  holding  himself,  as  if  he  were  con- 
scious that  any  extra  jolt,  any  sudden  movement, 
might  tumble  him  in  pieces.  The  shreds  that  went 
to  make  up  this  human  mosaic,  being  well  matched, 
seemed  to  pass  current  among  the  careless  ob- 
servers, and  he  shone  and  sparkled  conspicuously— i- 
eyes,  teeth,  and  smile — like  the  several  large  dia- 
monds, of  value,  flashing  out  here  and  there  from 
various  parts  of  his  dress  ;  sleeve-buttons  only  in 
certain  positions  of  his  arms  visible ;  a  shirt-pin 
half  hidden  in  the  folds  of  a  faultless  tie ;  a  watch- 
seal  peeping  out  with  a  dazzling  gleam  from  a 
negligently-buttoned  coat,  all  emphasized  by  a 
priceless  ring  of  one  large  diamond  set  around  with 
lesser  ones,  and  worn  on  the  little  finger  of  his  right 
hand. 

The  waiters,  especially,  paid  him  great  deference  ; 
and  this  deference  seemed  to  be  what  he  exacted. 
I  could  study  him  without  fear  of  attracting  his  at- 
tention, for,  as  Brinka  had  said,  he  was  paying  such 


'    AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  26l 

assiduous  court  to  the  lady  of  his  party — the  young 
lady  claiming  but  little  of  his  time — that  he  saw  or 
heard  none,  or  nothing  but  her.  She  was  a  very 
stylish  woman,  elegantly  attired ;  with  a  pair  of  well- 
used  eyes,  that  in  spite  of  her  vivacious  attempts  to 
make  look  simply  captivating,  persisted  in  shooting 
out  glances  that  impressed  one  as  more  feline  than 
amiable. . 


BRINKA: 


XXVI. 

CECIL. 

THE  breakfast-saloon  was  clearing  of  its  occu- 
pants. We  had  risen  from  the  table,  as  also 
had  the  party  of  four  who  had  elicited  so  many  re- 
marks from  us,  and  who  were  just  now  passing  us — 
the  lady  whom  Brinka  had  designated  "  gorgeous," 
on  the  arm  of  the  gentleman  we  had  taken  for 
granted  was  the  young  lady's,  the  St.  Cecelia's,  father. 
The  young  lady  herself,  left  to  the  Mephistophilic 
gentleman,  raised  her  eyes  to  his  face,  as  he  was 
rather  insistingly  offering  her  his  arm,  and  encoun- 
tering his  obtrusive  look,  or  rather  stare,  of  admira- 
tion, thanked  him  coldly,  declining  his  proffered  aid 
with  a  simple  "  Excuse  me,  sir,"  uttered  in  a  low,  clear 
voice.  Turning  from  pale  to  the  whiteness  of  marble, 
at  that  instant  she  faltered  in  her  step,  and  would 
have  fainted  had  I  not  caught  her,  and  supported 
her  to  a  seat  in  time  to  prevent  her  falling. 

It  so  chanced  that  she  was  close  beside  me  at  the 
time,  and  the  next  instant  the  Countess  Brinka  had 
produced  from  her  pocket  a  pretty  little  vinaigrette, 
and  was  passing  it  before  her  face  for  her  to  inhale. 
Mr.  Vaughan,  with  great  civility  also,  catching  up 
a  glass  of  iced  water  from  the  table,  offered  it  to 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

her,  she  accepting  it  with  a  dim  smile.  Partially 
revived,  she  requested  her  father  to  take  her  out 
into  the  open  air.  She  spoke  in  a  voice  so  faint 
that  I  alone  seemed  to  hear  her,  and  on  the  spur  of 
the  moment  I  offered  her  my  arm,  which  very 
quietly  she  accepted.  The  Mephistophilic  gentle- 
man was  the  only  one  ready  to  render  her  any  as- 
sistance of  her  own  party,  and  him  she  had  given 
so  decided  a  repulse  that  he  seemed  disinclined 
risking  another. 

He  followed  us  all  out  on  the  forward  deck,  and 
stood  looking  on  with  a  black,  bilious  scowl  as  the 
young  lady's  father,  with  great  solicitude,  calling 
her  his  dear  Cecil,  was  now  asking  her  what  he 
could  do  for  her  and  what  she  would  have. 

"  Nothing  but  the  fresh  air,  father.  I  am  'much 
better,  and  shall  soon  be  quite  well  again,"  she  re- 
plied, in  the  same  low  voice. 

"  It  was  very  sudden,  Rongue  (this  to  the  man 
with  the  black,  bilious  scowl).  I  never  knew  Cecil 
to  faint  before.  Are  you  feeling  quite  restored,  my 
love  ?  (this  to  his  daughter).  I  thank  you  gratefully 
for  the  assistance  you  rendered  my  daughter."  This, 
with  a  bow  and  a  rather  theatrical  sweep  of  his  hand, 
took  in  Mr.  Vaughan,  Brinka,  and  myself.  At 
the  same  time  he  handed  Mr.  Vaughan  his  card,  which 
Mr.  Vaughan  promptly  acknowledged  by  handing 
back  his  own.  The  Duke's  card,  without  any 
ducal  crest  or  any  coat-of-arms  whatever,  had  on  it 
simply  "  Mr.  Vaughan,"  to  which  he  added  in  pencil 
his  address,  No.  —  Fifth  Avenue. 


264  BRINKA  : 

The  other  card,  I  saw  at  a  glance,  as  Mr.  Vaughan 
held  it  a  moment  to  make  himself  master  of  the 
name,  revealed  the  fact  that  the  owner  of  it  was 
Eugene  Leighton ;  and  the  suggestion  of  Brinka 
that  he  might  be  my  father,  thus  confirmed,  was  such 
a  shock  that  for  an  instant  I  felt  quite  dizzy.  Re- 
gaining my  composure,  I  was  on  the  point,  with  the 
spur  of  a  first  impulse,  of  proclaiming  our  relation- 
ship. He  was  exchanging  civilities  with  Mr. 
Vaughan  with  elaborate  courtesy,  and,  as  I  watched 
him,  the  recollection  of  all  that  he  had  caused  my 
mother  to  suffer  swept  through  me,  and  I  let  the 
opportunity  pass,  saying  nothing.  The  Duke  of 
Chillingford,  too  punctilious  to  make  any  mistakes 
on  a  point  of  etiquette,  also  said  nothing — nothing 
that  is,  bringing  in  my  name. 

The  Countess  Brinka,  meantime,  was  sitting  down 
beside  Cecil  (my  sister  Cecil),  and  was  talking  to 
her  pleasantly  and  assuringly,  as  though  she  had 
always  known  her,  and  Cecil  was  smiling  and 
replying  to  her,  though  what  they  were  saying 
I  did  not  hear,  as  they  were  talking  in  such  low 
tones. 

The  black,  bilious  scowl  of  Mr.  Rongue  grew 
more  dark  as  he  stood  contemplating  them  sav- 
agely, from  under  shaggy  brows,  out  of  a  pair  of 
those  dark,  green-gray  eyes  that  look  black  at  times 
and  villainous  always.  His  long,  heavy  body,  with 
his  rather  short  arms  and  legs,  gave  him  much  the 
appearance  of  that  perpendicular  bird,  the  penguin, 
as  he  stood  bent  a  little  forward  leaning  on  his  gold- 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  26$ 

headed  cane — a  human  tripod  waiting  for  the  oracle 
to  speak  through  his  lips. 

It  came  presently,  but  not  as  Apollo  would  have 
sung.  His  voice  was  harsh  and  grating,  and  what 
he  said,  or  growled,  was  : 

"  I  will  leave  you  now,  Leighton.  I  see  Miss 
Cecil  is  quite  restored,  and  as  I  have  an  imperative 
engagement,  I — " 

"  Hold  on,  Rongue,  we  are  ready  to  start ;  we 
will  all  go  together." 

"  Excuse  me,  Leighton,  I  will  see  you  later  on. 
Au  revoir,  Miss  Leighton.  Auf  wicderschcn,  Mrs. 
Wagner,"  and  with  a  smile,  meant  to  be  facetious 
and  airy,  but  that  turned  into  a  savage  sneer  in  spite 
of  his  attempts,  and  with  a  sweeping  bow  and  lifted 
hat  to  the  ladies,  he  left  us. 

Mrs.  Wagner,  who  had  been  standing  a  little  apart, 
looking  out  on  the  river,  now  approached,  remarking: 
"  If  dear  Cecil  feels  well  enough,  would  it  not  be 
advisable  to  go  ?  The  carriage  must  be  waiting." 

"  How  is  it,  my  love  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Leighton, 
solicitously. 

"  I  feel  quite  ashamed  to  have  been  the  cause  of 
so  much  trouble  and  delay,"  said  Cecil,  sweetly.  And, 
rising,  she  gave  her  hand  to  the  Countess  Brinka, 
saying  good-bye,  and  hoping  they  might  meet  soon 
again. 

"  If  it  rests  with  me,"  returned  Brinka,  cordially, 
"  we  certainly  shall,"  And  my  sister,  with  another 
glance  at  me,  at  once  shy  and  candid,  much  as  if 
she  were  looking  at  herself  in  the  glass,  left  us  with 


266  BR1NKA  : 

a  pretty  grace,  followed  by  her  father  and   Mrs. 
Wagner. 

"  The  gentleman  is  your  father,  without  the 
shadow  of  a  doubt,  you  see,  Mr.  Wye,"  said  Mr. 
Vaughan,  handing  me  my  father's  card,  which  read : 
"  Eugene  Leighton,  Hotel  Brunswick." 

"And  the  lovely  girl,  with  the  lovely  name  of 
Cecil,  is,  in  good  truth,  your  sister,  Mr.  Wye,"  ex- 
claimed Brinka.  "  She  is  too  pretty,  too  beautiful, 
too  lovely,  for  an  ordinary  mortal,  and  I  was  right 
in  calling  her  Saint  Cecelia,  you  see." 

"  Your  enthusiasm  is  boundless,  my  dear,  con- 
cerning Mr.  Wye's  sister,"  observed  the  Duke. 
"  But  the  young  lady  is  sufficiently  beautiful,  cer- 
tainly, to  elicit  any  amount  of  enthusiasm.  I  was 
much  impressed  by  her." 

Roberts,  appearing,  announced  that  Jenkins,  to 
whom  he  had  telephoned,  had  come  with  the  car- 
riage, and  that  Lisette  had  all  the  wraps  and  pack- 
ages stowed  away,  Mr.  Wye's  valise  also,  and  were 
we  ready  to  leave  the  boat  ? 

As  neither  Mr.  Vaughan  nor  Brinka  would  take 
no  for  an  answer,  I  consented  to  remain  with  them 
during  my  stay  in  New  York,  in  order,  they  de- 
clared,  that  we  might  more  readily  confer  as  to  ways 
and  methods  of  extricating  Professor  Wye  from  the 
hands  of  the  unscrupulous  gang  who  held  him  in 
durance. 

As  we  drove  up  town  through  one  of  the  wide 
avenues  in  the  western  part  of  the  city,  we  encoun- 
tered, face  to  face,  the  carriage  containing  my  father 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  26/ 

and  sister.  They  had  evidently  deposited  Mrs. 
Wagner  at  her  up-town  home,  and  were  returning 
down  to  the  Hotel  Brunswick. 

Brinka  and  Cecil  exchanged  smiles  and  nods,  a 
faint  flush  overspreading  Cecil's  still  pale  features. 
I  observed  the  weary,  exhausted  look  Mr.  Leighton 
wore,  and  was  certain  he  was  much  more  ill  in 
health  than  he  was  willing  to  admit. 

After  we  had  passed  them  by  we  fell  to  discussing 
plans  in  behalf  of  Professor  Wye.  Mr.  Vaughan,  on 
hearing  I  had  engaged  a  detective,  Captain  Corrie, 
who  was  on  board  of  the  boat,  I  stated  simply, 
giving  no  further  particulars,  said  he  would  see 
Somers  at  once,  and  must  employ  him. 

"And  at  my  own  expense,  Mr.  Wye,"  he  said. 
"  I  insist  upon  that.  He  stands  at  the  top  of  the 
profession,"  he  added.  "Also,  that  Mr.  Rongue  is 
a  criminal  lawyer,  who  might — " 

"  Oh,  papa !  have  nothing  to  do  with  him,"  cried 
Brinka. 

"  Why  not,  my  dear  ?  Although  not  personally 
acquainted  with  him,  I  know  something  of  his  skill 
professionally.  He  is  as  familiar  with  the  haunts, 
history,  and  identities  of  all  the  pickpockets,  house- 
breakers, and  highwaymen  of  this  city  as  any  man 
in  it,  and  could  be  a  great  help,  undoubtedly,  in  this 
case." 

"  He  looks  as  though  he  spent  his  life  prowling 
among  dark  deeds.  I  never  saw  but  one  face  more 
saturnine  and  Mephistophilic." 

"  And  who  might  that  be,  my  dear  ?" 


268  BR1NKA : 

"  The  man  whom  we  saw  in  the  blacksmith  de- 
partment when  we  went  through  the  Auburn  State 
Prison,  who  gave  me  such  a  fright.  I  was  quite  a 
little  girl,  you  remember,  papa." 

"  Um — m,  yes,  my  dear.  You  have  not  forgotten 
that,  my  dear?" 

"  Then,  too,  this  Mr.  Rongue  being  for  the  horri- 
ble creatures  you  just  mentioned,  might  take  your 
money,  and  their  money,  too,  if  they  bid  higher,  and 
so  Professor  Wye's  cause  through  him  would  be  lost." 

"  There  is  something  in  that,  my  dear,  but  not  too 
much,  as,  if  I  employed  him  legally  in  the  business 
— and  I  may — I  shall  bid  so  high  they — who  ever 
they  are — cannot  out-bid  me." 

"  It  was  something  this  Mr.  Rongue  said  or 
looked,  or  the  two  together,  Mr.  Wye,  that  caused 
your  sister  to  faint.  She  acknowledged  to  me  that 
she  had  received  a  great  shock  at  the  breakfast-table. 
He  is  undoubtedly  employed  professionally  by  Mr. 
Leighton — by  your  father — and  presuming  on  it  made 
an  offer  of  his  hand  (heart  he  has  none)  to  your 
sister  ;  which  was  sufficient,  in  my  opinion,  to  make 
any  young  lady  faint." 

"  You  are  severe,  my  dear.  And,  really,  you  dis- 
play so  much  legal  perspicacity  in  your  conclusions 
on  such  slight  premises,  it  is  unfortunate  we  can 
not  engage  your  services  professionally  in  this  ugly 
affair." 

"  You  might  do  much  worse,  papa,"  replied 
Brinka,  with  a  smile.  "  You  think  so,  too,  do  you 
not,  Mr.  Wye?  I  should  like  to  have  some  one 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  269 

coincide  with  me,  papa  is  so  excessively  satirical." 
And  the  Countess  Brinka  looked  me  straight  in  the 
face,  the  light  of  her  dark  eyes  almost  blinding  me 
as  I  replied,  with  what  calmness  I  could  command, 
with  a  commonplace : 

"  Most  assuredly  I  think  so,  Miss  Vaughan." 

"  But  to  return  to  your  sister,  Mr.  Wye.  I  should 
like  to  see  how  she  looks  when  you  reveal  yourself 
to  her.  I  shall  call  on  her.  I  promised  her  I  would, 
for  I  have  really  fallen  quite  in  love  with  her." 

Mr.  Vaughan  threw  a  curious,  rather  startled, 
look  at  his  daughter,  and  my  heart  gave  a  big  thump, 
quite  needlessly,  for  the  Countess  Brinka's  words 
were  uttered  so  unconsciously,  they  might  have  had 
reference  to  the  sister  of  the  Czar  of  all  the  Russias, 
for  all  their  relevance  to  me,  and  I  was  glad  I  had 
sufficient  presence  of  mind  left  to  see  and  under- 
stand this. 

"  I  was  hoping,  papa,  you  would  have  handed  Mr. 
Leighton's  card  to  Mr.  Wye  when  he  gave  it  to  you 
on  the  boat,  that  the  recognition  could  have  taken 
place  on  the  spot,"  continued  the  Countess,  looking 
at  her  father  with  narrowing  eyes  to  ascertain  the 
cause  of  the  startled  look  he  had  given  her. 

"  Were  you,  my  dear  ?"  returned  her  father,  with  a 
cold  smile.  "Are  we  not  discussing  Mr.  Wye's 
affairs  rather  too  freely,  my  dear  ?"  he  asked. 

A  dark  flush  suffused  Brinka's  face,  making  her 
dark  beauty  more  beautiful. 

"  Undoubtedly  we  are,  papa,"  said  she,  the  rich 
color  passing  off  as  swiftly  as  it  came,  "  but  Mr. 


2/O 


BR1NKA  : 


Wye  will  pardon  the  rudeness  and  impute  it  to  the 
great  interest  we  take  in  his  sister.  Will  you  not, 
Mr.  Wye  ?"  This  was  said  with  so  sweet  a  dignity 
that,  as  I  was  replying  by  declaring  I  was  certain 
my  sister  would  be  grateful  for  the  interest  she  felt 
in  her,  the  Duke  regarded  his  daughter  with  a  look 
of  such  proud  satisfaction,  I  felt  more  strongly  than 
ever  before  that  she  was  the  one  being  who  alone 
made  earth  a  habitable  place  for  him  ;  and  the  greed 
of  his  love  for  her,  its  evident  selfishness  and  ex- 
actingness,  smote  on  my  heart  with  a  bitter  pang. 
I  could  understand,  as  though  the  words  were  writ- 
ten before  me,  that  only  to  rank  and  wealth,  and 
never  to  love,  would  he  yield  her  hand  ;  and  that 
when  the  time  for  a  decision  came — as  her  choice 
could  never  be  his  choice,  nor  his  choice  hers — it 
would  be  an  even  chance  which  would  prevail,  her 
own  wish  and  will,  or  his  indomitable  pride. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


271 


XXVII. 

"  I  THINK  I  AM  ON  THE  RIGHT  TRACK." 

OVER  two  weeks  had  passed  and  nothing  had 
been  heard  of  Professor  Wye.  Every  means 
of  search  that  could  be  devised  was  being  employed  ; 
and,  though  I  did  not  lose  faith  in  the  final  success 
of  our  efforts,  I  was  borne  down  by  an  inexpressible 
weight  that  I  would  have  given  worlds  to  shake  off! 
The  Countess  Brinka's  trust  remained  firm  in  the 
skill  of  detectives  who,  in  following  out  a  clue  so 
slight,  often  without  the  shadow  of  a  handle  to  hold 
by,  achieved  results  that  seemed  little  short  of  mirac- 
ulous. She  would  not  let  me  give  way  to  gloomy 
fears  about  the  Professor,  and  her  confidence  in  his 
speedy  restoration  to  us  encouraged  and  strengthened 
my  own  hopes  for  him. 

The  September  days  were  warm,  but  we  found 
coolness  in  drives  on  the  Coney  Island  beach  or  on 
the  long  river  drive  through  the  Park  and  Manhat- 
tanville. 

Notwithstanding  my  great  anxiety  about  Professor 
Wye,  my  love  for  the  Countess  Brinka  persisted  in 
growing  daily  more  strong,  for  which  I  reproached 
myself  as  lacking  in  fealty  to  him.  I  treasured  up 
her  words,  her  looks,  her  smiles,  and  hung  on  them. 


2/2 


BR/X/TA  : 


She  was  not  in  the  least  chary  of  either  one  or  the 
other,  but  met  my  eyes  with  a  sweet,  earnest  look, 
and  spoke  with  an  enchanted  utterance. 

Mr.  Vaughan,  always  urbane,  saw  nothing  in  my 
undemonstrative  manner  or  in  his  daughter's  frank 
speech  and  bright  smiles  from  which  to  take  alarm. 
Always  with  us  in  our  drives,  he  took  part, in  our 
conversation  or  buried  himself  in  his  book,  as  his 
mood  might  be. 

Captain  Corrie,  working  like  a  beaver  to  get  on 
the  track  of  Clavel,  or  Nance  and  Noney,  was 
vibrating  between  New  London  and  New  York ; 
whilst  Clavel,  under  the  rumor  of  having  gone  to 
Europe,  had  contrived  to  hide  himself  effectually. 
Not  for  a  moment  believing  he  had  left  the  vicinity 
of  his  machinations,  I  was  always  on  the  lookout 
watching  for  him.  I  had  been  once  or  twice  to  New 
London  for  a  few  hours  but  with  no  good  result. 
I  saw  Captain  Corrie  frequently  and  the  last  time  I 
called  he  was  in  great  haste. 

"  I  think  I  am  on  the  right  track,  Mr.  Wye,"  he 
said.  "  I  cannot  stop  to  explain,  but  I  am  very  cer- 
tain I  am  on  the  right  track,"  and  I  had  to  be 
content  with  that. 

I  had  been  to  call  on  my  sister,  going  the  next 
day  after  seeing  her  on  the  steamboat,  but  she  had 
left  the  city,  with  her  father,  for  Boston,  when  to  re- 
turn was  not  known.  It  was  a  great  disappointment 
to  me  and  also  to  the  Countess  Brinka.  I  felt  so 
strong  a  wish  to  see  my  sister,  and  have  her  ac- 
knowledge me  as  her  brother,  that  I  had  reconciled 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  273 

myself  to  the  necessity  of  accepting  Mr.  Leighton 
as  my  father,  impossible  as  it  had  seemed  to  me  on 
the  boat. 

I  had  given  up  one  day  to  Mr.  Owen  Blythe — of 
Red  House  memory — feeling  all  day  an  almost  irre- 
sistible desire  to  call  him  Zebra. 

I  had  written  a  letter  to  his  mother  preparing  her 
to  see  her  son ;  but  we  found  her,  notwithstanding, 
very  unprepared.  It  was  hard  saying  which  of  the 
two  was  most  affected  or  which  the  proudest  of  the 
other — Mrs.  Blythe  of  her  tall,  stylish  son,  or  Blythe 
of  his  fair,  round-about,  comely  little  mother. 

"  Id'  know's  I  can  ever  git  used  to  him,  he's  so 
big,"  said  she,  looking  over  at  me  with  a  smile,  her 
round  blue  eyes  swimming  with  tears.  "  The  last 
time  I  see  him  he  was  a  tiny  little  boy  of  six — that 
was  twenty-one  year  ago.  He  was  out  on  the  side- 
walk playin'  with  his  Elgin  marbles.  The  next* 
time  I  looked  out  the  winder  he  was  gone,  and  I 
never  set  eyes  on  him  from  then  till  now.  We  had  the 
town-crier  out  and  him  advertised  in  all  the  papers — 
but  'twa'n't  no  use.  He  used  to  spend  all  the  pen- 
nies we  give  him  for  Elgin  marbles,  and  I  thought 
at  first  he'd  run  around  the  corner  to  buy  some — 
until  he  didn't  come  back." 

"  Elgin  marbles  !"  cried  Blythe,  with  a  laugh  and 
a  puzzled  look. 

"  White-alleys,  glass-agates,  miggs — all  sorts  of 
Elgin  marbles,"  returned  Mrs.  Blythe,  with  chubby 
confidence.  "  I've  got  a  lot  that  was  yourn  put 
away  in  a  drawer  savin'  for  you.  But  it'll  be  your 


274  BRINK  A  : 

little  boy'll  have  to  play  with  them  now,  I 
guess." 

Blythe  gave  a  hearty  laugh.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  my 
days  for  fen-punchings  are  supposed  to  be  about 
over." 

"  Somehow  I've  always  picter'd  you  as  you  was 
then,  and  now  to  see  you  with  such  heighth — if  I 
hadn't  fit  hard  to  get  the  happy  pre-medium,  with- 
out which  none  of  us  aint  nothin',  'twould  have 
startled  me  more'n  it  did." 

"I'm  sorry,  my  dear  mother,  for  your  sake,  that 
I  am  not  a  little  boy  in  pinafores.  I'm  afraid  you'll 
have  to  take  your  unworthy  son  as  he  is,  beard, 
boots,  and  six  feet  in  his  stockings." 

"  You're  j  ust  the  heighth  of  your  blessed  father,  and 
I  should  be  the  ongratefulest  of  women  if  I  was  to 
let  my  equal-Abraham  be  upsot  by  such  blessed 
•good  fortune's  to  git  my  own  beloved  boy  back 
again,  even  if  he  doos  happen  to  be  bigger'n  I  laid 
out  for.  I've  got  all  the  more  to  love." 

"  Oh,  if  you  look  at  it  in  that  light  I  shan't  com- 
plain!" returned  Blythe,  with  a  reassuring  laugh. 
"  I'm  good  for  all  the  love  you  choose  to  invest  in 
me." 

"  And  to  think  you'  ve  turned  out  so  well  and 
done  it  all  by  yourself!"  said  his  mother.  "  To 
think  you've  fairly  run  the  goblet  and  come  out  top 
of  the  heap !" 

"  The  goblet — "  Blythe  hesitated  an  instant.  "  Oh, 
yes,"  he  added  with  a  quick  laugh,  "  I've  fairly  run 
the  gauntlet !  and  I've — well,  yes,  I've  come  out  top 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

of  the  heap — so  far  as  making  money  is  concerned ; 
but  I've  not  achieved  greatness — shall  leave  no  foot- 
prints on  the  sands  of  time,"  and  Blythe  laughed 
again. 

"  You're  best  jest  as  you  are.  I'm  as  proud  of 
you  as  proud.  There's  Clavel — he's  run  the  goblet 
too,  one  might  say — with  his  classical  eddication  ; 
and  with  a  tender  mother  and  an  all-wise  uncle  to 
guide  him  in  the  right  way — in  which  he  didn't  go. 
Well,  he — he's  as  treacherous  as  Ishmael  the  son  of 
Nethaniah  who  slaughtered  Gedaliah  in  cold  blood 
while  eating  bread  with  him.  But  then  poor  Clavel 
hed  the  very  evil  one  for  a  father,  you  see,  who  he 
took  after.  So  it  all  goes  in  stock  more'n  anything 
else  after  all.  And  I  d'  know  but  that  might' ve  ben 
what  kep'  you  so  straight,  for  you  had  a  father  who 
was  the  salt  of  the  earth,"  concluded  Mrs.  Blythe, 
fervently. 

And  a  little  mother,  who  is  the  sugar  and  cream 
of  the  earth,"  added  Blythe. 

Mrs.  Blythe  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes 
with  a  laugh,  as  though  sure  she  had  given  them 
the  final  wipe,  and  going  over  to  her  son  where  he 
sat,  she  laid  her  plump  hand  softly  on  his  shoulder, 
half  fondly,  half  fearingly. 

"  You're  for  all  the  world  jest  like  your  father, 
Owen,  a-sayin'  peart  things  back.  So  proper  smart 
appearin'  too  like  him,"  she  declared,  letting  her 
hand  glide  over  the  fine  texture  of  his  coat.  "  I  d' 
know's  I  like  to  see  anything  better'n  to  see  a 
young  man  who  takes  pride  in  smartin'  himself  up 


2;6  BRINK'A : 

— if  he's  not  too  fine.  I'm  glad  you  don't  wear 
dimons.  That  bull's-eye  stud  of  yourn's  a  heap 
more — more  swell  (and  she  laid  the  tip  of  her  fore- 
finger softly  on  the  stud  in  his  shirt-bosom).  I  know 
enough  about  precocious  gems  to  tell  that  a  bull's- 
eye  like  that's  as  costly's  a  first  watered  dimon." 

"  Cat-eye,  you  mean,  mother,"  corrected  Blythe, 
with  an  easy  laugh. 

"  Sakes,  yes !  cat's-eye ;  I  know'd  'twas  some  ani- 
mal's eye.  You  must  always  tell  me  when  I  mis- 
call words,  Owen.  Somehow  I  seem  to  know 
meanin's  better'n  words.  There's  always  ben  so  much 
larnin'  floatin'  around  in  Professor  Wye's  school 
that  sometimes  I  git  mixed  up  on  a  word.  Caryl, 
here — who  I  couldn't  love  better  if  he  was  my  own 
son — he's  always  ben  my  faithful  tormentor  (like 
Melissa  for  Telemachus,  the  boys  used  to  read 
about),  a-settin'  me  right  when  I  went  wrong  in  my 
words." 

"  Your  words  are  perfectly  charming,"  exclaimed 
Blythe,  with  a  gay  laugh,  throwing  his  arm  around 
his  mother's  trig  little  form,  as  she  stood  beside 
him.  And  then  drawing  her'up  to  him,  he  imprinted 
a  kiss  on  her  fair,  round  cheek.  "  I  would  not  have 
your  words  nor  you  changed  one  iota  for  a  corner 
in  the  mooted  Arcade  railway  stock.  You  are  my 
own  precious  little  mother,  just  as  you  are." 

Mrs.  Blythe  stood  a  moment  longer,  laid  her  hand 
softly  on  her  son's  head,  fingering  his  crisp  curls. 
Then,  disengaging  herself,  she  returned  to  her  chair 
and  sat  down. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


277 


"  You  air  like  your  father,  Owen,  I  must  say," 
said  she.  "  You're  your  father  over  again.  You've 
got  his  hair,  his  curls ;  you've  got  his  voice  and 
his  eyes  and  his  way,  and — "  here  she  broke  down 
utterly,  notwithstanding  her  resolutions  to  the  con- 
trary, and  sobbed  aloud — still  smiling,  still  strug- 
gling with  her  emotion. 

I  suddenly  remembered  that  I  was  in  great  haste 
to  get  back  to  New  York,  and  bidding  Mrs.  Blythe 
an  affectionate  good-bye,  half  moved  to  tears  myself, 
I  left  the  mother  and  son  together. 

On  reaching  the  city,  I  called  at  once  on  Captain 
Corrie,  who  met  me  with  a  serious  face. 

"  I  think  I  am  on  the  right  track,  as  I  told  you 
yesterday,"  said  he.  "  I  think  I've  got  hold  of  a 
clue,  but  can't  say  positively.  You  recollect  a  pretty, 
black-eyed  girl  that  waited  in  Repsneider's  billiard- 
room,  but  has  been  missing  from  there  ever  since 
the  disappearance  of  Repsneider  himself?" 

"  Perfectly,"  I  returned.  "  It  was  she  I  described 
to  you.  I  saw  her  that  afternoon  standing  beside 
him  at  the  back  part  of  the  room.  Well  ?" 

"  Well,  I  chanced  on  her  yesterday,  and  tracked 
her.  Saw  her  go  into  a  house  in  Mott  Street.  I 
hired  a  front  room  in  a  house  opposite,  and  there  I 
shall  watch.  You  can  hire  or  buy  anything  in 
those  slums  with  money,  to  men's  souls — that  is,  if 
that  kind  of  people  have  souls." 

"  But  do  you  think  .she — " 

"  I  have  followed  slighter  clues  than  that,  and 
sometimes  with  astounding  results.  There's  a  secret 


BR1NKA: 

in  that  house — of  that  I'm  certain.  The  cautious 
way  she  peered  up  street  and  down  street,  and  up 
at  the  house,  before  she  let  herself  in  with  a  latch 
key,  told  that  much,  and  what  that  secret  is,  is  for 
me  to  find  out" 

"  Perhaps  Clavel  is  there  in  hiding,"  I  suggested. 

"  That  is  what  I  shall  ascertain."  Captain  Corrie 
threw  at  me  a  quick  look,  and  went  on :  "I  have 
another  piece  of  intelligence  to  communicate  to  you. 
Your  sister  is  in  town,  and  is  at  present  at  Sam 
Bowen's,  and — " 

"  My  sister — at  Sam  Bowen's !"  I  interrupted, 
quite  mystified. 

"  Sam  Bowen's  wife,  you  know,  used  to  be  your 
nurse,  and  for  a  time  your  sister's.  That  was  before 
she  was  married  to  Sam." 

I  knew  Sam  Bowen  had  left  Providence  some 
years  before,  and  had  set  up  a  shop  in  New  York. 
I  had  been  to  see  him  and  his  wife  before  I  went  to 
Europe,  and  also  once  since  my  return.  He  was 
prospering  in  his  business,  and  was  as  devotedly  at- 
tached to  his  wife  and  children  as  ever. 

"  But  I  do  not  understand,"  persisted  I.  "  What 
is  my  sister  doing  at  Sam  Bowen's  ?" 

Captain  Corrie  regarded  me  with  a  fixed  look. 

"  You  will  be  shocked  to  hear  it,  Mr.  Wye,  but  it 
may  as  well  be  told  first  as  last.  The  man  your 
mother  married,  and  who  deserted  her  and  you — 
well,  your  father — he  died  very  suddenly — " 

"  Died  !"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Very  suddenly,  of  a  stroke.     He  was  to  have 


AN  AMERICA  N  CO  UNTESS.  279 

been  married  in  a  week  to  a  rich  widow — to  that 
Mrs.  Wagner  on  the  boat  with  them.  He  went  to 
Boston,  about  three  weeks  ago,  with  your  sister,  to 
visit  the  widow,  was  taken  off  without  a  moment's 
warning  with  paralysis  of  the  heart,  and  was  buried 
there  in  Boston.  I  went  yesterday  to  the  hotel 
where  they  put  up  before  leaving  the  city,  to  see  if 
they  had  Mr.  Leighton's  address,  or  knew  when  he 
would  be  back  in  New  York,  and  there  I  found 
your  sister,  just  arrived  from  Boston  to  get  some 
effects  she  had  left,  and  who  was  going  straight  on  to 
St.  Louis,  being  well  acquainted  there.  What  I 
told  her  about  you  made  her  alter  her  mind.  I  took 
her  to  Sam's,  where  she  will  wait  to  see  you.  She 
is  quite  broken  up,  for,  strange  to  say,  she  appears 
to  be  very  much  attached  to  that  man,  her  father." 


28O  BR1NKA: 


XXVIII. 

A   NOVEL   EMOTION. 

CAPTAIN  CORRIE  was  in  haste  to  pursue  the 
clue  he  was  so  sanguine  was  the  right  one, 
and  I,  being  in  as  great  haste  to  have  him  work  it 
up  to  final  success,  as  I  hoped,  left  him,  parting  from 
him  at  his  door.  I  started  at  once  to  Sam  Bowen's 
to  see  my  sister. 

I  found  her  in  Mrs.  Bowen's  best  parlor,  expect- 
ing me,  very  impatiently,  she  said. 

It  was  a  novel  emotion  to  have  a  lovely  girl  (it 
was  impossible  for  any  one  to  look  prettier)  impa- 
tiently expecting  me  and  coming  forward  to  claim 
me  as  her  brother  Caryl.  I  enjoyed  the  novel  situ- 
ation immensely,  and  felt  a  strong  desire  to  take  a 
brother's  privilege  and  offer  her  a  warmer  reception 
than  the  simple  hand-shake  I  gave  her.  But  I  was 
afraid  of  frightening  her,  she  looked  so  shy,  and  yet 
so  conscientiously  resolved  on  manifesting  her  ap- 
preciation of  our  newly  found  relationship. 

As  I  took  a  seat  beside  her  I  recalled  Brinka's 
enthusiastic  praise  of  her  and  desire  to  know  her, 
and  I  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  in  the  prospect  of  a 
friendship  between  them,  that  would  be  an  addi- 
tional pretext  for  seeing  much  of  Brinka.  I  spoke 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS.  2  8 1 

of  her,  telling  Cecil  how  disappointed  Miss  Vaughan 
was  to  find  she  had  left  the  city  when  she  called. 

"And  I  so  much  wished  to  see  her  again,"  Cecil 
said.  "  But  my  leaving  New  York  was  unavoidable, 
and  not  for  my  pleasure."  And  then,  with  a  sweet, 
sad  look,  she  gave  me  the  particulars,  at  my  request, 
of  her  father's  illness  (I  could  never  place  him  in 
my  mind  as  my  father  also),  and  then  told  me  where 
he  was  buried. 

"  And  why  were  you  going  to  St.  Louis,  Cecil  ?" 
I  asked.  "  What  should  take  you  so  far  off  as  St. 
Louis  ?" 

"  I  have  good  friends  there,"  she  replied.  "  I  in- 
tended to  teach — I  could  rely  on  my  friends  to  get 
me  pupils.  I  have  no  friends  here — until  now,  I 
have  found  you,  brother  Caryl." 

"  We'll  give  up  that,  my  dear  sister,"  I  said.  "  I 
could  not  spare  you  to  go  and  teach  in  St.  Louis. 
But  why  did  you  think  there  was  urgent  need  for 
your  teaching  ?" 

"  All  my  father's  effects  were  seized,  debts  follow- 
ing him  to  Boston.  He  died  worth  nothing." 

"  Those  diamonds  were  of  great  value,"  I  sug- 
gested. 

"  I  was  told  they  would  scarcely  pay  the  hotel 
bills  and  funeral  expenses,"  she  returned,  in  the  sad 
voice  that  went  to  my  heart. 

"  Who  told  you  this,  Cecil  ?"  I  asked.  "  Who  is 
transacting  the  business  for  you  ?" 

"A  lawyer,  a  friend  of  my  father's,  Mr.  Rongue." 

"  That  man's  a  scoundrel ;  you  cannot  rely  on 


282  BRINKA  : 

anything  he  tells  you.  I  wish  you  could  have  had 
some  one  else,"  I  said. 

"  What  do  you  know  of  him  ?"  she  asked,  giving 
me  a  quick,  startled  look.  "  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"  I  know  his  face,"  I  replied.  "  That  tells  his 
story." 

"  You  are  right — I  am  certain  you  are  right,  my 
dear  brother,"  and  Cecil  gave  me  a  timid  glance. 
"  It  seems  so  strange  to  me  to  call  you — to  call  any 
one — brother,"  she  softly  added,  meeting  my  eyes 
with  a  look  so  clear  and  open  and  trustful  that  I 
would  have  hugged  her  on  the  spot,  telling  her  how 
thankful  I  was  to  have  found  such  a  good,  true  little 
sister ;  but  again  I  was  afraid  of  alarming  her,  so  I 
kept  to  a  decorous  and  undemonstrative  deportment. 

"  Were  you  going  to  St.  Louis  all  alone,  my  dear 
Cecil  ?"  I  asked.  "  You  are  by  far  too  pretty  to  be 
traveling  over  the  country  alone." 

"  I  am  by  far  too  much  of  a  coward,  at  the  least," 
returned  Cecil,  smiling.  "  But  what  else  could  I 
do  ?  I  had  not  then  found  my  brother,  and  it  was 
necessary  for  me  to  do  something.  I  have  a  little 
money  of  my  own.  My  father,  from  time  to  time, 
gave  me  money  to  buy  clothes,  but,  as  I  spend  very 
little  on  my  wardrobe  in  comparison  to  most  other 
girls,  I  had  put  it  by.  I  dress  very  simply,  you 
see." 

"  Naturally,"  I  returned.  "  If  for  nothing  more, 
for  the  contrast,"  I  inadvertently  added. 

"  The  contrast  ?"  she  repeated,  with  a  questioning 
glance. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  283 

"  To  the  other  girls,"  I  said,  evasively,  not  caring 
to  allude  to  her  overdressed,  diamond-decked  father, 
now  dead  and  gone,  whom  I  ought  to  have  forgiven 
and  mourned,  now  he  was  dead  and  gone,  but  could 
not — I  loved  my  mother's  memory  too  well. 

"  You  mean  my  father,"  said  she,  simply.  "  Well, 
yes,  he  was  very  gay  in  his  dress.  He  had  other 
short-comings — enough  of  them,  I  suppose,  but  he 
was  always  very  kind  to  me.  I  mourn  his  loss  sin- 
cerely." 

My  sister  told  me  much  of  her  life,  which  had 
been  full  of  vicissitudes.  Her  father,  my  father,  was 
always  making  and  losing  fortunes,  she  said.  At 
one  time  he  owned  a  fashionable  riding-school,  and 
hiring  professional  riding-masters  to  run  it,  whilst, 
keeping  in  the  background  himself,  he  pocketed  the 
money  and  maintained  his  social  position.  That 
was  in  London.  At  another  time  he  had  a  fencing- 
school  in  the  same  way.  Once  he  dealt  in  fine 
cashmeres  and  crapes.  And  again  in  precious 
stones,  both  times  making  a  fortune  that  melted 
away  as  easily  and  rapidly  as  it  was  made.  That 
was  while  they  were  in  India.  The  last  few  years 
had  been  spent  in  the  United  States,  mostly  in  St. 
Louis,  where  he  had  been  engaged  in  land  specula- 
tions. 

"  My  father  had  been  doing  nothing  of  late,"  con- 
tinued Cecil,  "  and  has  been  living  on  a  fortunate 
sale  he  effected  in  St.  Louis.  He  met  a  lady  there 
whose  home  is  in  Boston,  whose  name  is  Mrs.  Wagner. 
You  saw  her  on  the  boat  with  us,  she  is  said  to  be 


284 


BRINKA  : 


very  wealthy.  My  father  proposed  for  her  hand,  and 
was  accepted.  She  came  on  with  us  from  St.  Louis. 
My  father  was  expecting  to  marry  her  in  a  short 
time ;  but  she  is  a  person  whom  I  especially  dislike 
and  distrust." 

Before  I  left  her,  my  sister  and  I  had  grown  quite 
good  friends.  The  more  I  learned  of  her  inner  life, 
which,  through  her  habitual  reserve,  appeared  so 
little  on  the  surface,  the  more  interested  I  became 
in  her.  I  exacted  a  promise  from  her  to  give  up 
all  thought  of  St.  Louis,  and  to  put  herself  in  my 
charge. 

"  What  was  it  you  were  intending  to  teach  ?"  I 
asked. 

"  Music,"  she  briefly  replied. 

"  Are  you  much  of  a  musician,  Cecil  ?" 

"  I  ought  to  be,  brother  Caryl.  I  have  had  mas- 
ters without  limit,  and  the  best  that  could  be  pro- 
cured wherever  we  were  sojourning.  I  believe 
music  is  all  I  know,  except  what  I  have  picked  up 
myself,  for  I  have  never  been  taught  anything  else. 
I  can  speak  the  languages  of  the  different  countries 
we  were  in,  I  being  always  my  father's  interpreter, 
he  having  no  knack  at  acquiring  languages." 

"  European  countries,  I  suppose  ?"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  and  Asiatic,"  Cecil  returned.  "  Hin- 
dostanee  for  one,  Persian  for  another,  and  several 
other  Eastern  dialects.  I  caught  them  very  readily 
whilst  we  were  there." 

"  You  are  nothing  less  than  a  lingual  prodigy," 
said  I. 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS,  285 

"  So  my  father  used  to  tell  me,"  she  returned, 
with  a  very  undemonstrative  laugh.  In  fact,  all  she 
said  or  looked  was  very  undemonstrative,  very  quiet, 
subdued,  in  brief,  as  though  having  shut  herself 
deep  down  within  herself  for  years,  she  gave  others 
the  rind  only  of  what  was  a  very  lovely,  over-sensi- 
tive nature. 

"  Can  you  sing,  Cecil  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  I  have  a  very  meek,  little  voice,"  she  replied, 
with  a  transient  smile,  "  that  has  never  been  cultured. 
I  play  the  piano  very  well,  I  suppose ;  perhaps  more 
than  very  well,  judging  from  all  that  has  been  said 
about  it.  I  play  the  harp  also,  perhaps  better.  I 
have  played  several  times  of  late  in  concert,  and 
made  what  paid  our  bills  when  my  father  was 
what  he  called  '  hard  up.'  But  I  do  not  like  it — 
playing  in  public,  I  mean — I  get  so  dreadfully 
frightened." 

"  You  would  please  with  your  playing ;  was  it  not 
so,  my  dear  sister  ?" 

"  I  was  really  too  frightened  to  judge  collectedly 
at  the  time.  My  father  and  the  papers  said  the 
audience  was  very  enthusiastic.  They  certainly 
made  noise  enough,  though  the  applause  confused 
rather  than  gratified  me." 

"  What  was  it  you  played,  Cecil,  piano  or  harp  ?" 

"  The  harp." 

"  Where  was  this  ?" 

"  Out  West.  In  St.  Louis  several  times,  in 
Chicago  and  Cincinnati  three  consecutive  even- 
ings." 


286  BR/XA'A  : 

I  noticed  my  sister  said  CincinnaY/,  and  not  Cin- 
cinnato.  In  fact,  her  pronunciation  of  all  words 
was  very  elegant,  and  her  words  were  well  chosen, 
her  manners,  as  well,  being  very  refined  and  finished, 
although  very  simple.  Acutely  alive  to  these  things, 
I  was  glad  to  see  there  was  nothing  in  my  sister  I 
could  wish  changed.  She  was  of  no  pronounced 
type  as  to  nationality  that  I  could  detect.  She  cer- 
tainly had  not  the  American  tone  in  her  conversa- 
tion, and  as  certainly  had  not  that  of  any  foreign 
country.  She  had  been  around  the  world  so  much 
with  her  restless  father  (my  father)  that  she  had  be- 
come quite  cosmopolitan — choosing  the  best  of  all 
nations.  I  looked  at  her  pretty  hands  and  her 
pretty,  round,  white  wrists,  and  her  slender,  lissome 
figure,  and  her  pretty  attitudes,  I  thinking  the  while 
of  how  much  all  these  personal  advantages  intensified 
the  effect  of  good  execution  with  the  public.  I  spoke 
again  of  her  having  played  the  harp  in  concert  so 
successfully,  adding  that  she  might  some  day  play 
in  public  once  more. 

"  Never  with  my  own  consent,  I  am  too  much  of 
a  coward,  too  much  of  a  sheep,"  she  replied,  with  a 
passing  smile.  "  I  should  greatly  prefer  teaching." 

"  And  never  shall  you  do  either  with  my  consent, 
dear  Cecil,"  I  said ;  "  remember,  you  have  promised 
to  place  yourself  in  my  keeping.  I  will  take  good 
care  of  you.  Have  you  your  harp  here?" 

"  It  was  seized  with  my  father's  effects,"  she 
briefly  replied. 

"  I  will  send  you  one  at  once — the  best  one  that 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  28/ 

can  be  found."  I  had  some  more  conversation  with 
my  sister,  chiefly  about  Professor  Wye,  and  left  her, 
telling  her  I  should  like  her  to  remain  at  Sam 
Bowen's  until  the  next  day,  when  I  would  call  and 
take  her  home. 

She  kissed  me  of  her  own  accord,  very  naturally 
and  quietly,  with  as  little  demonstrativeness  as  she 
did  everything  else ;  assuring  me  that  she  was  well 
pleased  to  remain  with  Mrs.  Bo  wen  (who  was  very 
nice,  she  said)  as  long  as  I  wished. 


288  BRINKA: 


XXIX. 

"HE   MUST    BE    FOUND   AT   ANY   COST." 

I  WAS  getting  out  of  a  Madison  Avenue  car, 
'  when  a  coupe  stopped  in  front  of  me,  and  a 
stentorian  voice  hailed  me  with  :  "  Hello,  Wye !"  as 
the  head  of  Blythe  protruded  from  the  window. 

"  You  are  just  the  one  I  wish  to  see,"  he  ex- 
claimed, and  opening  the  door  of  the  coupe,  he 
leaped  out  and  joined  me.  "  What's  being  done  in 
this  business?  Mother  has  said  so  much  to  me 
about  this  Professor  Wye  of  yours.  She  insists 
that  he  is  the  best  man  under  the  sun,  and  that — " 

"  He  is,"  I  asserted. 

Blythe  gave  me  a  quick,  sharp  look.  "And  that 
he  must  be  found  at  any  cost,"  he  resumed.  "  I'll 
— spend  a  million — 

"  Yes,"  I  repeated,  with  warmth,  "  he  must  be 
found ;  we  must  find  him  at  any  cost." 

"  I'll  spend  a  million  of  dollars — two,  if  needs  be, 
in  the  pursuit  of  those  three — I  never  permit  myself 
to  swear,  though  it  might  be  inspiriting  at  times — I 
mean  Red  Top,  Ranee  Noney,  and  Wiry  Jack.  My 
mother,  who  knows  nothing  of  these  three  worthies, 
I  find,  thinks  Clavel  Repsneider  is  the  head  and 
front  of  it  all,  as,  undoubtedly,  he  is,  and  made  me 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


289 


promise  to  keep  his  name  out  of  the  papers,  if  pos- 
sible, on  account  of  his  mother.  How  many  detec- 
tives have  you  in  the  field  ?" 

"  I  secured  Captain  Corrie,  and  commissioned 
him  to  employ  all  the  assistants  he  requires.  Mr. 
Vaughan — " 

"  The  Juke !"  said  Blythe,  with  a  laugh,  throwing 
his  eyes  over  at  me  with  a  look  that  vividly  brought 
up  the  Zebra  of  old.  "Somehow,  the  Duke  of 
Chillingford,"  he  went  on,  "  is  mixed  up  with  every- 
thing I  do  of  late.  I  would  not  have  him  know  that 
I  was  one  of  the  four  who  entered  his  house  that 
memorable  night  for  all  I  own." 

"There  is  certainly  no  reason  why  he  should 
know,"  I  replied ;  "  he  is  not  the  man  who  would 
ever  forgive  a  thing  of  that  sort." 

"  He  came  to  this  country  as  poor  as  Job's  tur- 
key," said  Blythe,  with  a  laugh — "  not  that  I  know 
how  poor  Job's  turkey  was — some  twenty-five  years 
ago,  and  engaged  in  fortunate  land  speculations. 
They  might  have  been  ////fortunate  as  well,  for  he 
has  no  more  head  for  business  than  the  head  of 
this  cane.  (Blythe  held  up  a  gold-headed  cane  for 
my  inspection.)  Bat  he  chanced  upon  a  man  for 
his  agent  who  knows  all  the  ropes,  and  is  one  of  the 
few  honest  men  in  the  world;  so  the  Duke  of  Chil- 
lingford, or  Mr.  Vaughan,  as  he  chooses  to  be  called 
here,  has  made  his  pile — English  aristocrat  as  he  is — 
in  vulgar  American  trade.  But  I  digress ;  what  is 
he  doing  in  this  business  ?" 

"  He  has  employed  Somers,  who — " 


290 


BRINKA  : 


"  No !  Somers  ?  Why,  he's  at  the  top  of  the 
profession.  Well,  I'll  find  just  as  good — a  score  of 
them.  I'll  have  every  nook  in  the  United  States 
searched  but  that  we'll  unearth  Professor  Wye.  I 
promised  mother — nothing  less  would  satisfy  her." 

"  As  a  preliminary  move,  Mr.  Blythe,  we  must 
consult  with  Captain  Corrie.  He  is  at  the  head  of 
this  search — even  Somers  consults  with  him,  that 
their  movements  may  not  conflict" 

"  Yes.  Let  us  go  at  once.  No  time  like  the 
present.  Besides,  I  promised  my  mother — nothing 
less  would  satisfy  her." 

"  He  is  usually  at  his  house  about  this  hour,"  I 
returned,  consulting  my  watch. 

Blythe  had  been  walking  on  in  that  rapid  gait 
business  men,  who  spend  their  lives  making  money, 
usually  acquire,  I  keeping  up  with  him,  and  as  it 
was  some  distance  to  Captain  Corrie's,  I  hailed  a 
hansom  that  was  standing  empty  near  us. 

"  Would  you  like  to  know,  Wye,  how  it  was  I 
got  clear  of  that  accursed  gang  at  the  Red  House  ?" 
asked  Blythe,  as  the  driver  started  on  over  the 
cobble-stones  at  a  brisk  pace. 

"  I  would,  indeed,"  I  replied. 

"  It  was  just  after  that  episode  at  Chillingford's, 
you  remember,  where  Ranee  Noney,  Hi,  Snake,  and 
I  were  all  rattled  out  of  the  house  by  the  sudden 
appearance  of  the  little  girl  (the  Juke's  daughter) 
and  her  Skye,"  laughed  Blythe,  adding :  "  I  was 
frightened  enough  at  the  time." 

"  I  remember  perfectly  your  telling  me,  years  ago, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  2$l 

about  it,"  I  returned.  "  It  made  a  strong  impres- 
sion upon  me.  You  told  me  on  the,  morning 
that  Captain  Corrie  took  me  away  from  the  Red 
House." 

"  Yes,  the  day  after  our  return  from  New  York ; 
just  so.  It  was  the  haunting  presence  of  that  pic- 
ture-child, the  Duke's  daughter,  Mr.  Wye,"  said 
Blythe,  now  speaking  seriously,  "  that  set  me  to 
thinking.  The  sight  of  her,  as  she  flew  down  those 
broad  stairs,  followed  by  her  Skye,  stayed  by  me — 
haunted  me.  By  the  way,  the  Skye  must  have  de- 
parted this  life  ere  now." 

"  Three  years  ago  I  have  been  told,"  I  said. 
"  Dying  of  old  age." 

"  Well,  Captain  Corrie  gone  and  you  gone,  and 
that  little  girl's  face  and  form  before  my  eyes,  night 
and  day — a  vision,  a  spirit,  a  child-angel — I  be- 
gan to  think,  as  I  said,  seriously  for  the  first 
time.  Where  was  it  all  going  to  lead  ? — how 
was  it  all  going  to  end?  And  I  made  up  my 
mind  of  a  flash  that  I'd  cut  and  run.  So  I  cut  and 
ran,  and  I  didn't  stop  running  till  I  got  here  in  New 
York.  I  walked  every  step  of  the  way,  hiding  and 
sleeping  under  hay-ricks,  and  eating  what  I  could 
get  with  the  loose  change  I  had  in  my  pocket.  I 
was  befriended  by  a  second-hand  dealer  in  books, 
down  in  a  cellar  in  Ann  Street.  I  was  looking 
down  in  his  cellar,  in  a  desultory  way,  and  very 
hungry.  He  saw  me  and  employed  me  to  go  on  an 
errand  for  him.  My  promptness  pleased  him,  and 
he  gave  me  some  dinner  and  some  change.  It  ended 


292 


BRINKA  : 


in  his  taking  me  in  and  giving  me  a  corner  to  sleep 
in  near  his  own  bed-room,  down  in  the  cellar  back 
of  the  shop.  I  swept  his  floor  for  him  and  ran  of 
his  errands,  keeping  very  close.  He  took  a  great 
fancy  to  me,  and  after  two  years  I  became  his  Co., 
and  was  so  successful  in  making  sales  that  he  got  a 
larger  place  up  above  ground,  and  a  larger  stock  of 
books.  I  read  every  book  in  his  shop,  and  worked 
away  at  arithmetic  and  writing  until  I  was  able  to 
keep  his  accounts.  After  I  had  been  with  him  six 
years,  my  friend  took  sick  and  died,  leaving  me  all 
he  owned,  to  pay  me  for  taking  such  good  care  of 
him,  he  said,  while  he  was  ill.  He  was  a  bachelor, 
and  had  no  relations,  that  is,  none  that  ever  turned 
up  to  interfere,  and  had  saved  up  a  few  hundred 
dollars.  After  he  was  gone  I  worked  on,  prosper- 
ing more  and  more  in  the  business — I  was  quite 
famous  at  prospering.  One  day,  five  or  six  years 
ago,  I  chanced  into  the  stock  exchange,  and  making 
a  fortunate  hit,  I  sold  out  my  book-stand,  bought  a 
seat  in  the  exchange,  and  went  regularly  into  it. 
They  call  me  Midas  down  there  in  that  Bedlam  of 
a  place — for  it  is  a  Bedlam  of  a  place  at  times  when 
there's  a  'flurry.'  The  flurry  generally  happens 
when  stocks  take  a  sudden  rise  or  a  sudden  fall. 
I've  had  the  coat  torn  off  my  back  and  a  new  ten- 
dollar  hat  mashed  over  my  eyes  as  flat  as  a  flounder 
— all  in  joke.  Though  some  of  their  jokes  are 
pretty  rough — a  little  like  the  Red  House,  though 
different,"  and  Blythe  gave  his  hearty  laugh.  "  I 
have  always  kept  my  own  counsel,  Mr.  Wye,  and 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


293 


have  formed  no  intimacies.  I  have  been  rigid  on 
that  point — so  afraid  as  I  have  been  .of  having 
my  six  years  in  that  vile  den  discovered.  I  was 
caught  up  in  the  street  by  Ranee  Noney,  you  know, 
when  I  was  six,  and  I  dusted  out  when  I  was 
twelve.  I  never  encounter  the  Duke  of  Chillingford 
— and  I  meet  him  frequently  in  business  hours — 
but  that  night  comes  up,  and  what  I've  escaped  in 
getting  away  when  I  did.  I  see  Chillingford's 
lovely  daughter,  too.  I  meet  her  with  her  father — 
sometimes  riding,  sometimes  driving — sometimes 
other  ladies  or  gentlemen  accompanying  them.  Of 
late  it  has  been  you,  Mr.  Wye,  with  them.  It  was 
always  the  remembrance  of  her,  as  she  looked  that 
night,  that  kept  me  from  going  into  anything 
boys  around  town,  with  no  one  to  look  after  them, 
are  led  into.  You  see,  being  a  fillius  nullius — 
(having  only  within  a  day  or  two  found  out  I  was 
somebody's  child) — and  it  being  easier  to  go  down 
hill  than  up,  and  there  being  plenty  ready  to  give 
one  a  vis  a  tergo  to  expedite  the  downward  progress, 
I  resolved  to  disappoint  them  all  by  climbing  up  in- 
stead of  rolling  down.  And,  as  brains  and  energy 
will  accomplish  anything,  unless  floored  by  ill-health 
or  rum — ubi  lapsus — I  resolved  to  give  rum  a  wide 
berth,  and  transpose  the  adage  in  vino  to  in  RHINO 
veritas.  And  that  is  the  secret  of  my  success. 
Here  we  are;  I  hope  we  shall  find  Corrie  in.  I  owe 
it  to  you,  Mr.  Wye,  to  do  all  I  can  in  this  business 
to  make  up  for  those  whacks.  Do  you  remember 
the  whacks  I  gave  you  on  your  seventh  birthday  ?" 


294  BRIXKA  : 

he  asked,  with  a  hearty  laugh.  It  seemed  very 
easy  for  Blythe  to  laugh,  and  his  laugh,  the  very 
soul  of  mirth,  was  exceedingly  contagious. 

"  Oh !  those  were  paid  for  by  '  Jack  the  Giant 
Killer,' "  I  replied,  laughing  in  concert,  "  my  first 
literary  treat ;  and  I  prized  it  immensely." 

" '  Jack  the  Giant  Killer,' "  repeated  Blythe ;  "  yes, 
you  haven't  forgotten  that.  But  those  whacks !  I 
never  forgave  myself  for  them,  you  were  so  wee, 
and  so  innocent,  and  so  helpless,  and  so  put  upon 
by  that  fiend  of  a  woman — that  wild  cat  —Red  Top!" 

We  had  to  wait  an  hour  or  more  for  Captain 
Corrie,  Blythe  meantime  entertaining  me  with  Red 
House  reminiscences.  And  when  at  last  Captain 
Corrie  did  come  in,  Blythe  went  at  his  subject  with 
a  directness  and  onwardness  that  again  brought 
back  the  Zebra  of  old. 

Captain  Corrie  was  of  the  opinion  that  it  might 
be  well  to  employ  detective  skill  in  the  western  and 
southwestern  cities.  "  Though  I  think  I  am  on  the 
right  track,  as  I  told  Mr.  Wye  this  morning,"  said 
he,  adding :  "  Still,  as  I  cannot  be  certain,  you  may 
as  well  have  men  sent  out  West,  and — " 

"All  right.  Give  me  a  list  and  I'll  go  ahead.  I 
promised  my  mother  I  would  spare  no  cost  to  get  at 
the  bottom  of  this  mystery  of  Professor  Wye,  and  if 
I  know  myself  I  won't,"  responded  Blythe,  with  em- 
phasis. 

There  was  about  him  a  push,  a  snap  and  vigor,  a 
rush  of  loudness  which,  though  he  had  learned  to 
curb  with  a  strong  hand,  cropped  out  here  and 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


295 


there,  reminding  me  of  a  certain  mammoth  Wag- 
nerian  concert  I  had  heard,  that  was  given  by  a 
celebrated  orchestral  leader,  in  which  were  intro- 
duced doubled  bass  drums  and  doubled  heavy 
brass  horns  (producing  most  astonishing  effects  of 
discordant  sound),  heavy  cannon  and  church  bells. 

Captain  Corrie's  time  being  limited,  our  stay  was 
brief.  He  said  nothing  further  about  his  plans,  and 
I  did  not  question  him,  thinking  he  might  not  like 
to  speak  as  openly  before  Blythe  as  to  me  alone. 
He  gave  no  intimation  of  having  ever  known  Blythe 
other  than  as  the  wealthy  capitalist,  and  treated  him 
with  that  deference  his  millions  everywhere  com- 
manded. 


396  BRIKKA  t 


XXX. 

CAPTAIN  CORRIE'S  TACTICS. 

I  CALLED  again  on  Captain  Corrie  the  next 
morning  at  daylight,  my  anxiety  to  know  if  ho 
had  any  favorable  news  was  so  great.  But  he  had 
not  been  at  home  all  night  and  had  left  no  word. 
On  returning  to  Mr.  Vaughan's  (I  was  still  at  his 
house,  held  by  the  hospitable  wish  of  both  father 
and  daughter,  and  my  own  utter  inability  to  break 
away)  I  found  Roy  Hildreth  in  the  drawing-room 
alone,  awaiting  me.  He  met  me  with  a  warmth 
that  made  me  feel  how  much  he  cared  for  me,  and 
what  a  delight  and  satisfaction  it  is  to  have  a  true 
and  tried  friend. 

"  What  is  being  done,  Caryl  ?  Have  you  heard 
from  him  ?  Is  there  anything  new  ?"  he  asked,  and 
there  was  so  much  heart-felt  sympathy  in  his  face, 
as  he  wrung  my  hand,  that,  understanding  his  ques- 
tions referred  to  the  Professor,  the  tears  sprang  into 
my  eyes  as  I  answered  him — 

"  Nothing — not  a  word ;  and  it  is  now  nearly 
four  weeks.  I  have  just  come  from  Captain  Cor- 
rie's." 

"  I  received  your  telegram,  and  am  glad  Corrie 
is  so  sanguine.  I  hope  it  will  result  in  something. 


AN  A  ME  RICA  N  CO  UNTESS. 

You  say  Blythe  is  going  to  work  up  the  Western 
States.  I  received  your  telegram  just  as  I  arrived 
in  the  city.  It  was  rewired  back  to  me.  I  was  so. 
anxious  I  left  especial  directions  on  leaving  New 
Orleans." 

"  That  was  quick  work." 

"  An  especial  always  is." 

"  How  did  you  leave  your  aunt,  Roy?" 

"  So  much  better  I  felt  I  could  be  spared.  And 
I  was  so  troubled  about  our  dear  Professor  that 
I  could  not  rest,  night  or  day.  So,  I  concluded 
to  come  on  and  see  if  there  is  anything  I  can 
do." 

"  You  can  help  me  bear  it,  Roy — though,  if  I  did 
not  feel  certain  we  shall  soon  have  something  to 
encourage  us,  I  could  not  bear  up  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  You  feel  that,  do  you,  Caryl  ?  It  will  then  be 
so,  for  your  prognostics  are  always  verified." 

"  I  am  not  aware  of  having  ever  made  any,"  I  an- 
swered. 

"  Did  not  the  Maharaja's  little  daughter  recover, 
as  you  assured  him  she  would  ?" 

"A  random  shot  of  mine,  to  keep  our  friend  the 
Maharaja  in  heart." 

"  I  have  always  said,  you  know,  that  you  are  a 
sort  of  mago  or  yogi — one  of  the  elect — " 

"  You  have  always  said,  I  know,  a  great  deal  of 
nonsense,"  I  returned. 

"  It  was  Amar  Abad  himself  affirmed  that  you  had 
the  organization  for  the  study  of  occult  science  and 
that,  and  that  you  might  become — " 


298 


BRINKA  : 


"A  hapless  victim  to  your  passion  for  guying," 
I  replied. 

Roy  whetted  his  tongue  to  answer  me,  but  sud- 
denly checking  himself,  he  exclaimed :  "  And 
whilst  I  joke  my  dear  Professor  is — where?  It 
is  brutal  of  me  to  think  of  anything  else  until — " 

"  Until  he  is  found,"  I  returned,  simply. 

Mr.  Vaughan  just  then  entered  the  room,  and 
wished  to  know  if  I  had  seen  Corrie,  and  if  he  had 
any  favorable  news.  Then,  observing  Hildreth,  he 
bowed  to  him  and  I  introduced  them. 

"  We  rise  with  the  lark,  Mr.  Hildreth,"  said  Mr. 
Vaughan,  "  to  be  ready  for  the  first  intelligence  from 
our  detectives.  Wye  goes  to  Captain  Corrie's  every 
morning  by  daybreak." 

Whilst  I  was  saying  that  Captain  Corrie  had  been 
away  from  his  home  all  night,  and  had  left  no  word, 
and  that  he  might  send  us  some  favorable  intelli- 
gence at  any  moment,  the  Countess  Brinka  joined 
us. 

"  I  have  always  wished  to  become  acquainted 
with  you,  Mr.  Hildreth,"  said  she,  with  winning 
cordiality,  as  I  introduced  Roy  to  her.  "  I  have 
heard  so  much  about  you  that  seeing  you  is  like 
meeting  an  old  friend." 

Roy,  I  was  pleased  to  see,  made  a  favorable  im- 
pression with  both  father  and  daughter.  His  firm 
tones  and  well-chosen  words,  his  pleasant  smile  and 
manly  bearing  rendering  him,  in  short,  decidedly 
good  form. 

We  fell  to  talking  of  Professor  Wye — always  our 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  299 

most  engrossing  topic — and  brought  up  at  the  mys- 
terious house  in  Mott  Street. 

"  Clavel  is  undoubtedly  hiding  in  that  house, 
and  Captain  Corrie  will,  most  probably,  discover 
what  he  has  done  with  Professor  Wye,"  Roy 
affirmed. 

"  We  all  hope  so,  Mr.  Hildreth,  for  his  whole 
heart  is  in  his  work,"  returned  Brinka,  warmly. 

"  It  is  generally  conceded,  my  dear,  that  heads 
rather  than  hearts  accomplish  successful  work," 
observed  Mr.  Vaughan,  taking  up  his  daughter  with 
the  utmost  suavity. 

"  A  popular  fallacy,  papa.  Anybody  can  have  a 
head,  you  know,  and  so  few  people  have  a  heart, 
that  when  you  find  any  one  with  both  you  expect 
anything  from  him." 

I  broke  into  a  helpless  laugh.  Checking  myself, 
I  observed  that  "  Heads  versus  Hearts "  was  the 
title  of  a  popular  comedy,  I  believed. 

"Quite  true,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Vaughan, 
blandly,  utterly  ignoring  my  observation. 

Roberts  here  entered,  handing  me  a  letter,  super- 
scribed to:  "Caryl  Leighton  alias  Wye,  care  of 
Harold  Vaughan,  Duke  of  Chillingford,  No.  — 
Fifth  Avenue."  Roberts  lingered  a  moment, 
curious,  as  an  excuse  arranging  the  window-cur- 
tains. 

"  Hit's  not  a  very  'ansome  way  of  haddressing 
you,  sir,"  said  he,  and  having  no  further  pretext,  he 
reluctantly  withdrew. 

Asking  permission  of  the  lady  present,  I  opened 


300  BRINKA  : 

the  letter,  glanced  it  through,  exclaiming :  "  So  !" 
Mr.  Vaughan  wishing  to  hear  it,  arose,  closed  the 
door,  and  I  read  aloud,  as  follows : 

"  Call  off  your  dogs.  His  nibs,  the  Professor, 
will  be  handed  over  to  you,  right  side  up,  on  receipt 
of  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  green- 
backs. No  checks.  No  monkeying.  No  she- 
nanigan, if  you  don't  want  to  lose  your  game."  An 
out-of-the-way  spot  near  New  London,  that  I  knew, 
was  given  in  a  postscript — I  to  go  there  alone,  at 
noon,  three  days  from  date.  I  was  to  hand  over  "  the 
boodle"  and  receive  in  return  "  his  jags,  the  Pro- 
fessor." Several  oaths,  which  I  did  not  read  aloud, 
spiced  the  effusion,  and  it  was  signed,  "  No  ques- 
tions asked." 

"  We  will  accompany  you,  Mr.  Wye,  to  within 
some  short  distance  of  the  place  of  rendezvous  to 
welcome  Professor  Wye.  It  is  a  great  relief  to  hear 
even  this  much  concerning  him,"  said  Mr.  Vaughan, 
gravely.  "  It  may  be  difficult  for  you  to  have  that 
amount  ready  in  so  short  a  time  without  a  written 
order  from  the  Professor.  I  will  hand  it  over  to 
you,  and  he  will  make  it  right  with  me  after  we  get 
him  safe  out  of  their  hands." 

"  You  think  of  everything,  papa,"  exclaimed 
Brinka,  as  I  was  thanking  Mr.  Vaughan  for  his 
kindness.  "  But  what  a  letter !  Though,  as  you 
say,  papa,  it  is  a  great  relief  to  have  any  news  of 
Professor  Wye." 

"  This  letter,"  exclaimed  Roy,  who  was  closely 
examining  it,  "  was  written  by  no  other  than  Clavel 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS.  30 1 

Repsneider  himself.  I  can  detect  his  handwriting 
through  the  clumsy  disguise  he  has  attempted." 

"  As  I  was  leaving  Elm  Ridge  the  other  day, 
Mrs.  Blythe  handed  me  a  letter  of  Gavel's  to  the 
Professor,"  said  I,  "  that  she  found  on  the  floor 
among  the  papers  those  men  scattered  from  his 
desk.  It  reached  the  Professor  at  Venice  two  years 
ago,  and  contains  an  urgent  request  for  money — so 
Mrs.  Blythe  informed  me.  I'll  go  up-stairs  and  get 
it." 

"As  you  say,  Mr.  Hildreth,  a  very  clumsy  dis- 
guise," affirmed  Mr.  Vaugharf,  as  I  returned  with 
the  letter.  "These  two  letters  were  undoubtedly 
written  by  the  same  hand,"  he  concluded,  on  com- 
paring them. 

"  How  very  unfortunate,"  said  Brinka,  with  feeling. 
"If  this  Clavel  Repsnsider  should  be  caught  and 
proved  guilty — as  he  undoubtedly  is — what  a  blow 
to  the  Professor  and  his  mother.  When  we  get 
Professor  Wye  safely  back,  I  should  like  to  have 
this  nephew  of  his  smuggled  off  out  of  the  country, 
where  all  could  be  hushed  up.  His  mother  would 
suffer  too  cruelly  if  he  had  to  be  brought  to  trial." 

"We  must  first  find  the  Professor,  my  dear,  at 
any  sacrifice.  Then  we  can  think  of  all  lesser  con- 
siderations." 

The  door  was  opened  by  Roberts  (Mr.  Vaughan 
having  closed  it,  that  our  conversation  about  the 
anonymous  letter  might  not  be  overheard),  and  he 
entered  announcing  breakfast,  and  bearing  on  his 
silver  waiter  a  folded  and  sealed  slip  of  paper,  which 


302 


BRINKA : 


was  also  for  me,  and  which  said  briefly :  "  Call 
around  at  once — Mr.  Vaughan  also.  Corrie." 

"  I  will  go  without  delay,"  I  exclaimed,  rising 
suddenly.  Hildreth,  proposing  to  accompany  me, 
also  rose. 

"  I  will  await  your  report  here,  Caryl.  Be  sure  to 
return  to  breakfast.  Come  at  any  hour,  and  bring 
Mr.  Hildreth  with  you.  Corrie  has  undoubtedly 
received  a  communication  from  those  men  of  similar 
import  with  -yours.  He  will  advise  you  as  I  do. 
Possibly,  he  may  have  discovered  something  in  the 
Mott  Street  house."  * 

It  was  the  first  time  Mr.  Vaughan  had  called  me 
by  my  first  name  since  I  was  a  boy.  I  saw  the 
quick  glance  of  surprise  Brinka  cast  upon  her 
father,  and,  as  I  left  the  room,  followed  by  Hildreth, 
the  look  with  which  she  met  my  eyes  was  so  full  of 
some  inexplicable  feeling  to  which  I  did  not  dare 
give  a  name,  that  every  pulse  within  me  was  stirred 
almost  to  pain,  and  I  scarcely  heard  what  Roy  was 
saying  until  hailing  a  coupe,  he  arrested  my  atten- 
tion by  hurrying  me  into  it. 

"  I  never  walk  when  I  can  ride,"  said  he ;  "I 
never  stand  when  I  can  sit ;  I  never  sit  when  I  can 
lie  down  ;  I  never  lie  down  when  I  can — never 
mind  the  die  part  of  it,  that  comes  soon  enough.  I 
can  afford  to  joke  now,  that  we're  to  have  our  Pro- 
fessor back  in  three  days.  Well,  at  last,  I've  seen 
your  Brinka,"  and  Roy  drew  a  long  breath. 

"J/j/ Brinka!"  I  cried,  derisively.  "You're  too 
fast  with  your  conclusions." 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


303 


"  I  am  too  previous,  am  I  ?  Well,  we'll  see,"  and 
Roy  laughed. 

"  Her  father  intends  her  for  that  Glencairn,  Earl 
of  Baysfield.  He  told  me  so  last  evening  in  strict 
confidence." 

"  That  for  his  strict  confidence  !"  and  Roy,  snapped 
his  fingers.  "  She  is  a  girl  of  too  much  spirit  to  be 
compelled  into  matrimony.  She  is  an  American 
girl.  An  American  Countess,  per  se,  you  see." 

"  She  herself  declares  that,"  I  affirmed,  Roy's 
words  stirring  my  heart  with  a  great  thrill. 

"Great  Scott!  But  is  she  not  beautiful!"  ex- 
claimed Roy,  not  as  a  question,  but  in  assertion. 

I  looked  at  Roy,  but  made  no  other  reply. 

"  A  wonder  of  beauty !"  continued  he.  "  Eyes 
large,  dark,  tender — a  mystery  of  all  unfathomable 
feeling  in  their  luminous  blackness.  Her  eyes 
themselves  would  be  sufficient  stock  in  the  beauty 
line,  with  their  long,  curled  fringes  to  set  them  off, 
for  any  girl  to  found  pretensions  on.  But  all  her 
features  are  the  perfection  of  symmetrical  loveliness. 
And  then  her  marvelous  hair !  All  I  can  say  is 
what  the  youth  sung  to  the  shepherd,  '  In  form  and 
feature  she  is  beau-oo-oo-oo-ty-y's  queen !'  " 

"Are  you  in  love  with  her?"  I  asked,  meeting 
Roy's  laughing  eyes. 

"  Who  could  help  being  ?"  he  replied.  "  She  is, 
without  exception,  the  most  beautiful  young  lady  I 
ever  saw." 

I  looked  at  Roy,  again  making  no  reply,  en- 
deavoring to  detect  if,  in  his  satirical  humor,  he 


304 


BRIXKA  : 


were  laughing  at  me  or  hiding  some  deeper  feel- 
ing. 

"  You  may  look  me  through,  Caryl ;  you  won't 
find  what  you  seek,  for  I  am  loyal  to  you  to  the 
core.  Your  Hesperides  are  safe  from  me.  You 
may  have  some  opposition  from  her  father;  but 
you'll  be  sure  to  win  in  the  end,  as  any  one — except 
her  father,  perhaps — can  sea  the  young  lady  herself 
is  absorbingly  interested  in  you.  My  time  has  not 
come  yet,  though  I'm  expecting  it  daily  (Roy  gave 
a  light  laugh),  and  I'm  faithfully  yours  to  command, 
as  at  the  close  of  a  letter,"  and  Roy,  sliding  his  hand 
down  from  my  shoulder,  where  he  had  placed  it 
whilst  talking,  and  finding  my  hand  gave  it  a  hearty 
grip  and  shake,  congratulating  me  on  my  choice. 

"  The  confidence  is  all  yours,  Roy,"  said  I,  "  but 
I  thank  you  all  the  same  for  your  good  wishes." 

"  I'll  not  go  in  with  you,  Caryl,  after  all  (our 
driver  had  just  stopped  before  Captain  Corrie's 
door),  I  might  be  considered  an  intrusion,  you  see." 

"An  intrusion!  Nonsense!"  I  said,  as  I  opened 
the  door.  "  I  don't  see.  Come  in  !" 

But  I  did  see,  and  what  I  least  expected. 

Sitting  in  an  arm-chair,  rather  pale,  but  calm  and 
collected,  was  Professor  Wye  himself. 

I  was  so  surprised,  so  startled,  that  it  seemed  for 
a  moment  as  though  I  almost  stopped  breathing ; 
as  though  every  pulse  stopped  beating. 

Captain  Corrie  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with 
a  slow,  measured  turn  of  his  head,  a  broad  smile, 
half  triumph,  half  delight  lighting  up  his  face. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  -JQ- 

"  You  can  believe  your  eyes,  Mr.  Wye!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  '  His  nibs,'  the  Professor,  in  person,  and  no  '  op- 
tional collusion  !'  "  muttered  Roy  in  my  ear  as  we 
pressed  forward  to  greet  the  Professor,  who  rose  to 
his  feet  with  a  great  smile  upon  his  face  that  deep- 
ened in  sympathy  with  our  amazement. 

"  My  being  here  out  from  my  prison  is  as  unex- 
pected to  me  as  to  you,  my  dear  boys,"  said  the 
Professor,  in  a  voice  that  thrilled  me  from  its  depth 
of  feeling,  as  he  shook  hands,  first  with  me — Roy 
hanging  back  a  little,  saying,  "  You  are  entitled  to 
the  precedence,  Caryl." 

"  I  do  not  yet  know  how  Captain  Corrie  effected 
my  release,"  continued  the  Professor:  :<  and  when  I 
was  aroused  so  early  in  that  sordid  place  this 
morning,  it  was  with  little  thought  I  should  be 
liberated  and  see  you  this  very  day." 

Almost  wild  with  the  overjoy  of  knowing  Pro- 
fessor Wye  was  alive  and  well,  and  actually  safe 
out  of  the  clutches  of  that  murderous  gang,  I  begged 
Captain  Corrie  to  tell  us  how  he  brought  it  about.  - 

"  How  he  did  it,"  amended  Roy. 

"  Why,  you  see,"  he  began,  as  we  all  seated  our- 
selves, "  from  time  to  time,  while  the  Professor  and 
you  were  abroad,  I  had  occasion  to  make  myself 
acquainted  with  the  comings  and  goings  of  Clavel 
Repsneider — the  more's  the  pity  his  being  the  Pro- 
fessor's nephew — on  account  of  some  of  the  persons 
about  his  saloon.  After  I  was  employed  on  this 
business,  missing  the  pretty  girl,  his  bar-maid,  from 


306  BRINKA : 

her  accustomed  place,  I  have  been  on  the  lookout 
for  her,  as  well  as  for  him,  never  for  a  moment  be- 
lieving Repsneider  had  gone  to  Europe.  I  caught 
sight  of  the  girl  at  last,  shadowed  her,  saw  her 
enter  a  house  in  Mott  Street,  as  I  told  you,  Mr. 
Wye,  saw  enough  to  mistrust  the  house,  so  hired 
a  room  in  a  house  opposite  and  watched.  Last 
night,  about  twelve  o'clock,  I  saw  him,  Clavel  Rep- 
sneider, enter  the  house.  He  stayed  there  only 
about  fifteen  minutes — the  girl,  who  was  sobbing 
aloud,  coming  to  the  street-door  with  him.  She 
threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  in  a  perfect  agony 
of  supplication  and  clung  to  him,  but  he  flung  her 
from  him  so  rudely  that  he  threw  her  to  the  pave- 
ment, and  then  swung  himself  off.  I  crept  out  of 
the  house  where  I  was  watching,  followed  him,  saw 
him  enter  a  flash  gambling-den  in  Worth  Street, 
and  then,  on  deliberation,  I  returned  to  Mott  Street. 
The  girl  was  walking  up  and  down  the  sidewalk, 
wringing  her  hands,  apparently  in  great  distress. 
Presently  she  darted  into  the  house,  and  soon  re- 
turned with  a  bonnet  upon  her  head,  looked  steathily 
up  and  down  the  street  and  walked  off  rapidly  in 
the  direction  of  the  East  River.  I  followed  her, 
keeping  her  in  sight  very  easily  until  just  as  she  was 
going  to  throw  herself  in  the  river — I  knew  what 
she  was  up  to — I  caught  her  by  the  arm. 

" '  I  wouldn't  do  it,  my  girl,'  said  I ;  '  he  isn't 
worth  it !' 

"  '  Who  isn't  worth  it  ?'  she  screamed,  looking  at 
me  with  dull,  sodden  eyes. 


A<V  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


307 


" '  That  hound,  Repsneider,'  I  replied. 

" '  What  do  you  know  of  that  hound,  Repsneider?' 
she  cried,  her  eyes  now  fairly  blazing. 

"'I  know  all  about  him,'  I  returned;  'I  know 
how  he  used  to  be  sweet  on  you,  promising  to  marry 
you — when  you  were  bar-maid  there  in  his  saloon, 
in  New  London.  I  know  how  he  has  deserted  you 
for  another  girl  (that  was  a  surmise  of  mine,  but  it 
seems  it  was  a  true  one),  who  is  not  half  so  pretty 
as  you  are.  And  I  know  he  has  put  you  in  that 
house  to  watch  over  the  gentleman  he  has  in  hiding 
there  (that  was  also  a  surmise,  but  also  a  true  one), 
and  I  know  he  expects  to  get  a  heavy  sum  for 
ransom  money.' 

"  '  Are  you  the  devil  ?'  she  screamed,  looking  at 
me  in  the  greatest  terror,  and  struggling  wildly  to 
get  away. 

"  '  I  am  a  very  good  friend  of  yours,  if  you  will 
permit  me  to  be  so,'  I  said,  holding  her  fast.  '  Look 
here,  my  girl,  I  will  give  you  two  thousand  dollars, 
and  I  will  pay  your  fare  to  San  Francisco  over  and 
above,  and  I  will  get  you  a  good  place  in  a  store 
there  if  you  want  it.  You  are  tired  of  it  here,  for 
he  has  deserted  you  and  knocks  you  down.  With 
plenty  of  money  and  three  thousand  miles  off  you 
will  be — ' 

" '  Yes,  I'm  sick  to  death  of  it  all.  I  hate  him. 
I'd  do  anything  to  spite  him — and  father  and 
mother  are  terrible  to  me,  and  abuse  me  shamefully 
because  he's  deserted  me  for  that  hateful  Sue  Clark. 
I  hate  him !  I  hate  him  !  I  hate  him  !' 


308  .   .          BR1NKA: 

"'Softly,  my  girl/  I  said,  'you  will  call  attention 
to  us,'  for  she  was  wildly  screaming,  each  word 
louder  and  louder. 

"  Suddenly  she  turned  her  head  and  looked  at  me. 

" '  Well,  and  what  will  you  have  me  to  do  for  so 
much  money  ?' 

" '  I  want  you  to  let  me  see  the  gentleman  you've 
got  in  hiding,  and  do  it  quietly,'  I  said. 

" '  Is  that  all  ?  I  can  easjly  do  that,  and  no  one'll 
be  a  bit  the  wiser.  Yes,  that  will  spite  him  ;  for  he 
made  me  swear  I'd  not  let  any  one  see  him — it's 
Professor  Wye,  you  know — and  he,  Clavel  said  that 
he'd  kill  me  if  I  didn't  do  just  as  he  told  me.  But  I 
shall  be  far  enough  off;  so  he  can't  find  me.  Come, 
hurry  up.  Father's  away  to-night,  and  mother 
sleeps  like  a  log  when  she's  been  taking  something, 
and  she  always  does  when  father's  away !' 

"  I  took  her  in  a  street  car  to  within  a  short  dis- 
tance of  her  house,  and  in  her  nervous  eagerness  to 
be  avenged  on  Repsneider,  she  acquiesced  to  all  I 
proposed,  and  I  had  Professor  Wye  in  a  carriage — • 
the  girl  also — in  the  shortest  imaginable  space  of 
time  driving  to  this  house — I  did  not  look  for  a 
carriage  though  until  we  reached  Broadway,  for 
fear  of  observation.  I  hire  this  whole  house,  you 
know,  and  I  showed  the  girl  into  a  room*  locking 
her  in,  putting  one  of  the  two  thousand  dollars  I 
promised  her  into  her  hands  (part  of  the  money, 
Mr.  Wye,  you  let  me  have),  telling  her  I  would  give 
her  the  remainder  to-day,  and  get  her  off  to  San 
Francisco  as  soon  as  possible,  and  somehow  she  has 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  309 

perfect  confidence  in  me,  and  is  very  quiet.     I  left 
her  just  now  counting  her  money." 
-  ."  You  had  it  rough  in  that  vile  den,  my  dear  Pro- 
fessor— shut  up  there  those  long,  weary  weeks,"  I 
lamented. 

"  They  treated  me  well,"  returned  the  Professor, 
smiling  at  my  warmth.  "  It  was  for  their  interest 
to  treat  me  well.  The  appointments  of  my  rooms — 
I  had  two — were  sufficiently  comfortable.  I  suffered 
mostly  from  the  incessant  din  of  my  quarrelsome 
neighbors,  and  the  unpleasant  odors  from  the  heaps 
of  rubbish  in  every  stage  of  mildew  and  decay  orna- 
menting their  back-yards  in  lieu  of  flowers.  The 
windows  of  both  my  rooms,  iron-barred,  overlooked 
the  yards ;  then,  too,  the  knowledge  of  what  my 
friends  were  suffering  on  my  account,  was  an  abiding 
source  of  anxiety  to  me." 

Captain  Corrie  had  ordered  breakfast  for  Professor 
Wye,  and  a  waiter  from  the  restaurant  was  at  the 
door  announcing  it  I  declined  Captain  Corrie's 
invitation  for  myself  and  Roy,  saying  that  we  were 
under  an  especial  promise  to  Mr.  Vaughan. 

"  A  breakfast  in  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush," 
affirmed  Roy,  with  his  light  laugh.  "  We  cannot 
do  better  than  bear  the  Professor  company,  Caryl, 
thanking  Captain  Corrie  for  his  forethought.  If  we 
are  all  as  nearly  famished  as  I  am,  we  might  not  live 
to  reach  Mr.  Vaughan's,  you  know." 

Smiling,  as  he  always  did,  at  Roy's  extravagan- 
cies, the  Professor  said,  "  Come,  Caryl,"  and  we 
three  ate  a  very  excellent  breakfast,  spread  in  Cap- 


3io 


BR1NKA  : 


tain  Corrie's  dining-room,  Captain  Corrie,  through 
modesty,  not  permitting  himself  to  sit  down  with 
us  at  table,  although  asked  by  the  Professor.  He 
must  go  and  see  that  the  girl  he  was  going  to  send 
to  California  had  her  breakfast,  he  said. 

After  he  returned,  I  produced  the  letter  signed 
"  No  questions  asked."  I  had  forgotten  it  in  the  ex- 
citement of  seeing  the  Professor  so  unexpectedly. 

"  They  will  be  disappointed  in  the  '  boodle '  they 
counted  on.  Two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars, indeed !"  exclaimed  Captain  Corrie. 

The  Professor  examined  the  letter,  but  said 
nothing. 

"  It  was  very  sharp  of  you,  Captain  Corrie,  jump- 
ing at  the  conclusion  that  Professor  Wye  was  in 
that  house.  I  should  not  have  thought  of  that — in 
time,  at  least." 

Captain  Corrie  gave  me  a  curious  look.  "  We 
learn  to  jump  at  conclusions,"  he  said.  "  It's  our 
business." 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


XXXI. 

VOICE-BUILDING. 

A  CARRIAGE  being  ordered,  we  drove  around 
to  Mr.  Vaughan's  and  were  admitted  by 
Roberts,  who  respectfully  congratulated  the  Pro- 
fessor on  his  escape,  evincing  no  surprise  and 
wishing  to  know  when  it  would  be  our  pleasure  to 
breakfast. 

Whilst  saying  to  Roberts  that  we  had  already 
breakfasted,  the  rich  tones  of  the  Countess  Brinka's 
voice  reached  us  from  the  drawing-rooms.  She  was 
singing  an  old  air  of  Stradella's,  profoundly  moving 
and  quite  German  in  its  severe  lack  of  ornamenta- 
tion, though  of  the  old  Italian  school,  as  its  flowing, 
rather  than  abrupt  intervals,  indicated.  On  the  con- 
clusion of  "/  miei  sospiri"  she  sang  the  brilliant 
finale  to  the  second  act  of  "  Elisabetta  "  with  its  ex- 
uberance of ' fioriture ',  that  Rossini  said  he  put  in  to 
leave  his  prime  donne  no  opportunity  of  interpo- 
lating their  own  embellishments.  She  sang  with  a 
maestria  rarely  heard,  filling  the  air  with  the  almost 
impossible  runs  and  trills  of  the  "  BdF  alme  generose" 
with  as  little  effort  as  a  bird  sings.  Right  upon 
that  she  sang  the  intensely  touching  preghiera, 
devoid  of  embellishments,  by  Mercadante,  Ma 


312 


BRINA'A  : 


negli  estremi  istanti,  with  exquisite  skill  and  pathos, 
and  then  she  sang  no  more. 

Although  it  was  nothing  new  for  me  to  be  stirred 
to  the  heart  by  the  fire  and  pathos  of  her  voice, 
having  heard  her  sing  daily  for  the  last  three  weeks, 
I  perceived  that  both  the  Professor  and  Hildreth 
were  under  the  spell  of  its  charm.  Roy,  always 
alive  to  a  fine  voice,  made  no  move  to  enter  the 
drawing-rooms,  but  stood  in  attentive  attitude,  half 
leaning  against  one  of  the  columns  of  the  vestibule, 
mutely  intent  until  the  last  bar  of  the  pregJiiera  was 
finished.  Whilst  the  Professor's  distinguished  face 
quickened  with  such  unmistakable  appreciation  of 
the  purity  of  tone,  the  perfectly  correct  touch  of  the 
singer,  that,  had  I  belonged  to  one  of  the  Latin, 
Germanic,  or  Gallic  races,  instead  of  being  an  unde- 
monstrative American,  I  should  have  thrown  my 
arms  around  him  and  hugged  him  in  true  foreign 
fashion,  from  very  sympathy  with  his  admiration  of 
what  I  loved  so  well. 

As  we  entered  the  drawing-room,  Brinka,  who 
had  risen  from  the  piano,  came  forward  to  greet  us 
with  a  pretty  look,  half  questioning,  half  surprised 
at  Professor  Wye. 

"  Your  surmise  is  correct,  Miss  Vaughan,"  I  cried. 
"  It  is  he  himself!  Captain  Corrie,  as  you  hoped, 
has  succeeded  in  extricating  Professor  Wye  from 
the  toils  of  the  Philistines." 

The  undisguised  gratification  that  shone  in  her 
eyes,  as  she  gave  him  her  hand,  saying :  "  I  knew  it 
was  he ;  I  knew  it  was  you,  Professor  Wye,  although 


AN  A  ME R 1C 'AN  CO  UNTESS.  3 1 3 

I  have  not  seen  you  since  I  was  a  child,  six  years 
ago,"  was  something  pleasant  to  witness.  She  con- 
ducted him  to  a  chair  (the  Professor  punctiliously 
standing  until  she  was  seated)  telling  him  how 
delighted  she  was  that  he  was  with  us  once  more. 
She  said  that  her  father  had  received  an  im- 
portant telegram,  and  was  out,  but  would  soon 
return. 

I  took  especial  note  that  she  was  wearing  the 
flowers  I  had  sent  her  in  the  early  morning,  a  few 
hours  before,  and  I  wondered  if  she  wore  them  be- 
cause they  were  pretty  and  choice,  or  from  any 
sentiment  toward  the  giver. 

"  Your  singing  is  a  treat  to  me,  Miss  Vaughan," 
said  the  Professor.  "  Hearing,  for  nearly  a  month 
past,  only  the  sordid  sounds  of  my  prison,  you  may 
imagine  the  pleasure  it  gave  me,  on  entering  your 
house,  to  listen  to  a  voice  reminding  me  of  some  of 
those  wonderful  singers  I  heard  in  times  past.  We 
cannot  call  the  art  of  singing  a  lost  art,  when  we 
find  a  voice  like  yours.  You  sang  charmingly 
when  a  little  girl,  I  remember,  to  my  organ  accom- 
paniments, I  playing  for  you  with  the  heavy  stops 
shut  off,  you  holding  in  scorn  the  popular  melodies 
of  the  day,  and  delighting  only  in  some  Agnus  Dei, 
Tantnm  Ergo,  or  Ave  Maria  of  the  old  masters.  And 
now,  Miss  Vaughan,  in  addition  to  a  fine  voice,  you 
have  achieved  an  admirable  method.  You  have  a 
correct  touch,  attacking  your  notes  with  precision, 
with  none  of  that  slurring  up  to  them  so  much  in 
vogue  with  poorly  taught  singers.  Your  portamento 


BRINKA: 

is  perfect.  Shall  I  offend  if  I  particularize,  Miss 
Vaughan  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  The  criticism  of  one  so  competent  to 
judge  I  shall  value,  Professor  Wye,"  returned  Brinka. 

"  It  is  rare  to  find  so  perfect  a  portamento  as  yours, 
Miss  Vaughan,"  continued  the  Professor,  gravely, 
Brinka,  with  intent  look,  listening  with  a  gravity 
equal  to  his  own.  "  Comparatively  few  singers  of 
the  present  day  execute  a  portamento  well — dragging 
their  voices  either  up  or  down  to  the  concluding 
note,  instead  of  reaching  it  by  a  light  leap,  with  a 
short  anticipated  note : 


Sem    -    -    -    pre,          sem    -    -    -    pre, 

(softly  hummed  the  Professor  in  exemplification.) 
Then,  your  tones,  Miss  Vaughan,  are  taken,  the 
point  of  attack,  above  the  glottis,  with  none  of  the 
mixed,  guttural  voice  that  comes  from  singing 
with  depressed,  protruding  larynx,  that  is  so  dis- 
agreeable in  quality,  and  so  sure  to  prematurely 
break  up  the  voice  at  the  time  it  should  be  in  its 
prime — just  when  singers  with  much  practice  have 
achieved  the  technique  and  facility  of  execution. 
Singers  must  necessarily  produce  throat  tones  who 
have  been  so  poorly  taught  as  to  permit  the  air- 
column  to  remain  in  the  larynx,  and  there  form  the 
tone,  instead  of  letting  it  simply  vibrate  upon  its 
cartilages,  as  the  breeze  upon  the  strings  of  the 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


315 


harp,  and  ascend  into  the  natural  chambers 
for  the  formation  of  the  tones — the  cavities  over  and 
between  the  eyes  and  in  the  cheek-bones.  The  roof 
of  these  cavities  might  be  called  the  sounding-board 
of  the  vocal  tones.  We  are  looking  back  more  and 
more  to  the  days  of  Porpora  and  his  marvelous 
pupils,  who  achieved  with  the  voice  all  the  human 
voice  could  do,  retaining  it,  from  their  excellence  of 
method,  until  extreme  old  age.  We  are  realizing 
in  these  days  more  and  more  the  cause  of  the  de- 
cline in  vocal  art,  and  our  best  teachers  are  now 
making  tone-culture — the  method  of  producing 
pure  and  correct  tones  on  scientific  principles — the 
philosophy,  the  common  sense,  the  wisdom  of  sing- 
ing, voice-building  they  are  pleased  to  call  it — the 
foundation  of  vocal  instruction.  And  we  are  grad- 
ually losing  the  idea  of  expecting  to  achieve  in  a 
few  months,  with  the  voice,  results  that  took  long 
years  of  patient  study  in  those  palmy  days  of  song, 
when  Madame  Mara,  Senesino,  Farinelli,  Caffa- 
relli,  Cuzzoni,  Faustina,  Donzelli,  Rubini,  Cata- 
lani,  Malibran,  Pasta,  Sontag,  and  others,  held  the 
hearts  of  the  world  captive  by  their  finished  method 
and  magnificent  voices.  Sontag,  the  greatest  artist 
of  her  time,  one  of  the  greatest  of  any  time,  told  me 
— she  was  then  quite  fifty  years  old,  and  it  was  here 
in  this  city,  about  two  years  before  her  sudden  death, 
many  think  by  poison — that  she  had  so  much  to  learn 
and  still  studied  as  diligently  ('  Ora  e  sempre,' 
said  she)  as  when  she  was  seventeen  or  twenty- 
seven.  She  was  at  that  time  still  in  the  zenith  of 


316  BRINKA: 

her  glory,  having  long  processions  of  her  enthusiastic 
devotees  unhitch  the  horses  from  her  carriage, -night 
after  night,  and  attaching  ropes  draw  her  home  from 
the  scene  of  her  triumph  to  her  hotel.  I,  myself," 
continued  the  Professor,  with  one  of  his  great  smiles, 
"  was  one  of  the  Diva's  devotees,  and  assisted  with 
a  hand  to  the  rope  in  rendering  homage  to  a  noble 
voice  perfected  through  patient  study  in  a  noble 
school.  We  have  had  a  few  fine  singers  since 
Sontag,  and  only  one  Patti.  Pardon  my  lecture, 
Miss  Vaughan,  but  it  is  a  subject  to  which  I  have 
given  much  thought,  for  the  forcing  system  em- 
bodies not  only  the  loss  of  voice — the  taking  the 
tones  down  in  the  throat,  I  mean — but  destruction 
to  the  health  as  well." 

"Oh!  your  lecture  is  delightful,  Professor  Wye. 
I  wish  some  singers  I  know  of  could  hear  you. 
Some  who  have  lovely  voices  that  are  being  ruined 
by  the  throat  tones  you  deprecate.  I  am  only  too 
thankful  I  have  been  taught  better,  and  that  I  had 
sufficient  comprehension  to  profit  by  good  instruc- 
tion. I  took  lessons  several  years  of  Carlo  Bassini, 
commencing  when  I  was  seven  years  old,  as  papa 
said  that,  as  I  would  sing,  I  must  be  taught  the  right 
way.  I  also  studied  whilst  in  London,  with  a  pupil 
of  Manuel  Garcia,  who  talked  as  you  do  about  tone- 
culture,  and  who  raved  about  Porpora's  system. 
And  in  Milan  I  took  lessons  of  the  celebrated 
Maestro  Lamperti,  and  in  Rome  of  Ricini,  a  pupil  of 
Crescentini,  who,  if  any  of  his  pupils  used  a  throat 
tone,  would  put  his  hands  to  his  ears,  shrug  his 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNl^ESS. 

shoulders,  and  make  a  hideous  face,  as  though  in 
greatest  agony." 

"  Carlo  Bassini,"  returned  the  Professor,  "  was 
one  of  the  pioneers  of  vocal  art  in  this  country. 
Perhaps  the  only  one  who  first  gave  us  an  idea  of 
tone-culture  as  the  corner-stone  in  voice-building. 
It  was  his  province  for  many  years  to  repair  the 
voices  broken  by  the  florid  systems  of  other  maestri, 
who  considered  a  dashing  style  and  a  command  of 
embellishments  all-sufficient.  Whilst  in  this  country 
we  have  recognized  the  necessity  of  commencing 
with  children  at  an  early  age,  to  make  them  profi- 
cient in  piano-forte  playing,  we  have  deemed  one 
or  two  years  sufficient  to  make  singers,  and  that 
usually  not  until  adult  age,  after  all  kinds  of  bad 
vocal  habits  have  been  formed  and  voices  have  gone 
all  astray.  We  are  beginning  to  find  that  we  should 
commence  judiciously  training  the  tender  voices  of 
children,  to  prevent  the  bad  habits  of  singing  that  in 
adult  years  are  so  difficult  to  eradicate — the  child- 
voice  being  always  so  much  nearer  right,  so  much 
more  flexible  and  capable  of  receiving  correct  im- 
pressions. Children,  whilst  taking  readily  to  sight- 
reading  and  pure  tones,  should  leave  the  difficult 
solfeggi,  of  course,  for  riper  years.  The  teacher  of 
the  child-voice,  too,  as  of  the  adult-voice,  should 
always  thoroughly  understand  the  nature  and  use 
of  the  throat  muscles,  in  order  to  guide — never  to 
force — the  young  voice  into  its  natural  tones. 
Teachers  can  in  this  way  prevent  any  tendency  to- 
ward the  downward  action  of  the  larynx  and  trachea, 


3 1 8  BXINA'A  : 

which  reversed  action,  when  confirmed  by  habit, 
produces  those  throaty  tones  that  cause  the  singer 
to  protrude  the  lower  jaw,  and,  with  veins  distended, 
to  become  red  in  the  face,  apparently  almost  to 
suffocation — when  the  exercise  of  singing  should  be 
as  easily  performed  as  that  of  breathing.  The  cus- 
tom, so  universal,  of  letting  children  sing  'tunes'  in 
great  numbers  together,  with  no  attempt  at  teaching 
the  use  of  the  voice,  permitting  them  to  vie  with 
each  other  as  to  who  can  sing  the  loudest  and  shrill- 
est, straining  their  voices  to  ultimate  injury,  cannot 
be  sufficiently  deplored  or  censured.  You,  my 
dear  Miss  Vaughan,  who  have  been  so  well  taught, 
and  who  have  profited  so  well  from  good  instruc- 
tion, have  only  to  persevere  in  your  admirable 
method  to  retain  your  voice  as  long  as  you  live. 
You  perceive,  I  am  lecturing  again." 

"  It  is  kind  of  you,  Professor  Wye,  to  say  such 
nice  things  of  my  voice.  I  shall  be  happy  to  sing 
for  you  anything  you  wish — that  is  not  the  '  Music 
of  the  Future.'  I  never  attempt  that,"  and  Brinka 
gave  a  slight  laugh.  "  I  think,"  and,  her  face  lighted 
up  playfully,  "  that  the  so-called  Music  of  the  Future 
has  much  to  answer  for  in  breaking  up  voices  of 
the  Present.  Grand  as  it  is  for  instrumentation,  the 
voice  has  to  struggle  with  it  to  compass  its  abrupt 
intervals,  whilst  its  many  dissonances  of  accompani- 
ment distract  a  sensitive  ear." 

"  Shall  I  agree  with  you,  Miss  Vaughan  ?"  asked 
the  Professor,  with  a  grave  smile.  "  But,  please 
bear  in  mind  I  shall  hold  you  to  your  promise, 


A.V  AMERICA*  COUNTESS.  3 1 g 

leaving  you  to  make  your  own  selections ;  and  I 
would  suggest,"  he  went  on,  the  smile  deepening  on 
his  face,  "  that  there  is  no  time  like  the  present." 

Hildreth,  who  had  been  making  a  tour  of  the 
rooms,  stopping  here  and  there  before  the  works  of 
art  that  decorated  the  walls,  came  up  to  us. 

"  I  know  some  music  of  the  present,  Miss 
Vaughan,"  he  commented,  "  that  I'm  sure  you 
would  like.  It  sings  of  itself.  It  was  written  by  a 
musician  who  is  destined  to  become  famous.  I 
will  play  you  a  piano  arrangement  of  some  of  it 
some  day,  if  you  care  to  hear  me." 

"  You  arouse  my  curiosity,  Mr.  Hildreth,"  ex- 
claimed Brinka.  "  I  can  only  say  with  Professor 
Wye,  there  is  no  time  like  the  present,"  and  Brinka 
glanced  with  a  smiling  face  over  at  the  piano. 

"After  you  have  sung,  Miss  Vaughan,  with  plea- 
sure," said  Roy. 

Brinka  very  unaffectedly  went  over  to  the  piano, 
asking  me  to  play  her  accompaniments. 

"  So  few  can  play  a  sympathetic  accompaniment," 
she  declared. 

With  which  equivocal  assertion  she  placed  before 
me  one  of  Luigi  Arditti's  exquisite  waltz  songs,  leav- 
ing me  in  doubt  as  to  how  sympathetic  an  accom- 
paniment I  might  be  supposed  to  play.  She  sang 
various  airs,  spirited  and  pathetic,  ending  with  a 
brilliant  aria  from  Galuppi's  " Diavolessa"  com- 
mencing with  ascending  trills  of  two  octaves,  and  so 
wierd  in  conception,  so  full  of  diablerie,  every  lati- 
tude being  allowed  for  eccentricities  of  execution, 


•520  BRINK  A: 

that  no  voice  less  flexible  and  accurate  than  hers 
could  have  sung  it.  But  what  was  most  charming 
to  me  was  her  artless,  almost  child-like  uncon- 
sciousness of  having  done  anything  in  the  least  out 
of  the  common  way. 

"  You  play  a  most  delightful  accompaniment, 
Mr.  Wye,"  she  said,  turning  to  me  with  the  conclu- 
sion of  her  last  song.  "  I  sang  to  please  Professor 
Wye,"  she  added,  with  the  utmost  simplicity,  as 
she  moved  from  the  piano ;  "  and  I  see  by  his  face 
he  is  pleased.  So  play,  Mr.  Hildreth,  what  you 
spoke  of,  if  you  will  be  so  good,  before  the  Pro- 
fessor has  time  to  say  complimentary  things.  What 
the  face  says  is  higher  praise  than  words,  and  I  like 
it  better."  Smiles  chased  each  other  on  her  face, 
as  the  Professor,  rising  until  she  was  seated,  de* 
clared  that  he  was  mute,  having  no  words  to  say 
just  how  well  he  thought  of  such  singing  as  hers, 
even  should  she  give  him  permission. 

Hildreth  took  my  place  at  the  piano,  but  in  no 
great  haste,  Miss  Vaughan  must  give  him  a  few 
moments  to  get  over  it,  he  whimsically  said.  And 
as  I  had  been  led  to  expect  by  his  previous  remarks, 
he  went  through  with  a  concerto  of  my  own  that 
had  a  marked  syncopated  movement,  which  he  gave 
with  precision  and  finish.  It  had  been  published  at 
Leipsic,  and  had  won  for  me,  especially  the  scherzo 
passage,  some  favorable  foreign  press  comments. 

"  Thank  you  ever  so  much,  Mr.  Hildreth,"  Brinka 
exclaimed,  "  Mr.  Wye  played  portions  of  that  same 
for  me  a  few  days  ago,  and  it  was  only  yesterday  I 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  32 1 

discovered  by  the  merest  chance  its  author.  Some 
one  was  playing  it  admirably  in  at  Pond's.  I  ques- 
tioned the  clerk  who  was  waiting  on  me,  and  so 
learned  the  author's  name.  It  is  all  you  say,  Mr. 
Hildreth,  and  more,  and  I  consider  myself  very  for- 
tunate in  having  heard  it  played  by  three  such 
excelling  pianists,  all  differing  so  much  in  style  and 
touch." 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  about  that,  Miss  Vaughan,"  cried 
Hildreth,  "the  vast  difference  I  mean  in  Caryl's 
touch  and  mine.  I  have  not  been  all  these  years 
trying  to  catch  his  style — to  bring  out  the  meaning 
of  a  thing,  you  know — to  plow  down  deep  into 
the  feelings  and  move  one  to  tears  and  that, 
not  to  see  that,  strive  as  I  will,  /  can  only  skim 
along  on  the  surface — as  lightly  as  butterflies  in 
sunshine." 

"  Roy  would  like  you  to  contradict  him,  Miss 
Vaughan,  and  praise  his  excellence,"  I  said,  mali- 
ciously, paying  him  back  for  his  vaunt  of  me. 

Mr.  Vaughan  just  then  came  in  the  room,  and  his 
astonishment  at  seeing  Professor  Wye  sitting  with 
us  in  such  a  matter  of  course  way,  was  so  genuine 
that  Brinka  with  a  pleasant  laugh  exclaimed  :  "  You 
see  I  was  right  about  Captain  Corrie,  papa.  We 
owe  it  all  to  him." 

"  I  see  what  gives  me  one  of  the  pleasantest  sur- 
prises I  ever  had ;  all  praise  to  whom  praise  is  due," 
returned  Mr.  Vaughan,  suavely,  whilst  cordially 
shaking  hands  with  the  Professor. 

"  If  I  had  known  where  you  were,  papa,  I  should 


322 


BR1NKA  : 


have  sent  a  messenger  boy  with  word  of  the  good 
news." 

"  I  was  with  Somers,  my  dear.  He  has  caught 
one  of  the  men,  a  fellow  they  call  Wiry  Jack.  But 
happily,  his  evidence  now  will  not  be  needed." 

"  We  ought  to  do  something  brilliant  to  mark  the 
occasion,  it  is  such  a  joyful  one,"  declared  Brinka. 

"Are  you  contemplating  fireworks  or  bonfires, 
my  dear?"  asked  Mr.  Vaughan,  with  a  bland  smile. 

"  I  have  always  envied  the  little  street  boys  their 
bonfires,"  returned  Brinka,  laughing.  "  I  should  like 
to  light  one  myself.  Or  we  could  at  least  get  up  a 
grand  dinner,  and  have  memorable  speeches.  I 
have  observed  that  people  usually  celebrate  joyful 
events  by  eating,"  and  Brinka  laughed  softly  again. 

"  The  event  has  been  duly  celebrated.  I  have 
been  listening  to  some  exceptionally  fine  singing, 
and  I  consider  myself  highly  favored,"  returned  the 
Professor,  with  a  grave,  appreciative  smile  that  told 
how  much  to  his  liking  the  singing  had  been. 

"  You  sang  for  the  Professor,  my  dear  ?"  inquired 
Mr.  Vaughan,  regarding  his  daughter  with  interest. 

"  Yes,  papa,  and  Mr.  Hildreth  has  been  playing 
for  me." 

"Ah,  indeed!  I  should  be  pleased  to  hear  him," 
Mr.  Vaughan  returned.  "  But  I  have  not  yet  heard 
how  you  effected  your  escape,  my  dear  Professor," 
he  added. 

Captain  Corrie's  story  was  told  again  by  Hildreth 
and  myself,  Hildreth  adding  here  and  there  a  few 
heroic  touches  that  would  not  have  borne  the  test 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

of  cross-examination,  and  Brinka,  not  having  before 
heard  it,  was  fired  with  tender  pity  for  the  girl  who 
had  been  so  ill-treated  by  Clavel.  She  declared  that 
the  girl  would  need  some  clothing  for  her  journey, 
and,  that  as  men  never  thought  of  those  things,  she 
would  get  Lisette  to  help  her  do  up  a  package  of 
necessary  things  and  send  them  around  to  Captain 
Corrie's. 

As  Brinka  left  the  room  a  lady,  whom  I  knew 
only  as  Lady  Griselda,  who  had  been  sitting  over 
by  the  window,  speaking  to  no  one — who  seemed  to 
me  to  be  always  sitting  over  by  the  window,  speak- 
ing to  no  one — now  rose  and  quitted  the  room  with 
Brinka,  making  a  stiff,  dry  bow  to  us  as  she  passed 
by.  She  had  tried  my  patience  sorely,  day  after 
day,  by  her  omnipresence,  inasmuch  as  I  had  never 
been  able  to  get  a  word  alone  with  Brinka.  This 
lady,  as  I  afterward  ascertained,  was  a  distant  rela- 
tive of  Mr.  Vaughan's,  highly  respectable  and  of 
unimpeachable  descent,  whom  he  had  impressed 
into  service  and  salaried,  she  being  impecunious  as 
well  as  titled,  to  do  duty  as  chaperone  to  his  lovely 
daughter.  She  was  a  maiden  lady,  very  tall,  very 
yellow,  very  gaunt,  having  her  bones,  like  those  of 
the  shell-fish,  on  the  outside.  She  very  seldom  said 
anything  beyond  good  morning,  or  good  evening, 
or  good  afternoon,  but  always  smiled — an  eternal, 
unvarying  smile. 

There  are  many  smiles — smiles  of  joy,  smiles  of 
sorrow,  smiles  of  love,  smiles  of  hate,  smiles  of 
kindness,  smiles  of  derision,  of  triumph,  of  mockery, 


324 


BRINKA  : 


of  pride,  of  envy ;  smiles  a  young  mother  lavishes 
on  her  infant,  smiles  that  linger  on  the  lips  of  the 
older  mother  for  her  son  who  has  achieved  a  name. 
Smiles,  in  short,  of  every  feeling,  emotion,  or  sensa- 
tion of  the  human  heart.  Lady  Griselda's  was  none 
of  these  ;  passionless,  emotionless,  purposeless,  fixed, 
it  meant  nothing.  It  was  a  smile  such  as  Medusa 
(if  Medusa  had  been  an  angular  maiden  lady  with 
her  bones  on  the  outside)  might  have  had  on  her 
face  when  those  who  fixed  their  eyes  on  her  were 
turned  into  stone.  It  might  have  so  served  me,  had 
I  looked  at  her  instead  of  at  Brinka. 

I  marveled  that  Brinka  was  on  such  easy  terms 
with  her,  taking  her  so  sweetly  and  deferring  to  her 
as  to  an  oracle ;  for,  with  all  heroic  intentions 
toward  being  very  civil,  I  found  I  had  little  or  nothing 
to  say  to  her.  But,  whether  I  said  nothing  or  made 
an  attempt  at  some  conversation  her  smile  never 
varied. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


325 


XXXIL     . 

"THAT  SETTLES  THE  QUESTION." 

AFTER  Brinka  had  left  the  room,  Roy  sauntered 
over  before  one  of  Gerome's  master-pieces  ; 
examining  it  a  few  moments,  he  proposed  that  I 
should  accompany  him  to  his  hotel.  We  left  the 
Professor  and  Mr.  Vaughan  in  the  full  tide  of  a  dis- 
cussion, Mr.  Vaughan  having  made  some  remark  in- 
volving the  great  labor  question  then  agitating  the 
world,  and  the  Professor  having  differed  from  him. 

"A  dense,  smoky  gray  is  white  with  Mr. 
Vaughan,"  observed  Roy,  when  we  were  in  the 
street. 

"  He  was  always  fond  of  trapping  the  Professor 
into  metaphysical  arguments  years  ago,"  I  returned. 
"  But  the  Professor  has  unlimited  patience.  If  you 
have  nothing  better  to  do,  Roy,  before  I  go  with 
you  to  your  hotel,  I  should  like  you  to  go  with  me 
and  call  on  a  young  lady  to  whom  I  wish  to  intro- 
duce you,  in  whom  I  am  much  interested." 

"  What,  another  !"  exclaimed  Roy,  lightly,  casting 
on  me  a  pair  of  mocking  eyes.  "  Is  not  the  beauti- 
ful Brinka  sufficient?  Such  a  squire  of  dames  as 
you've  become !  Who  is  the  fair  one  number  two  ? 


3  26  BRINKA: 

— taking  it  for  granted  she  is  fair ;  and  where  does 
she  live  ?" 

Waiving  all  except  the  last  question  I  answered 
that  she  was  stopping  for  a  few  days  with  her  old 
nurse,  Mrs.  Sam.  Bowen. 

"  Here  is  an  empty  hansom,"  I  said,  beckoning  to 
the  driver.  "  You  are  so  averse  to  walking,  we  will 
be  driven  to  Sam  Bowen's." 

"  Is  this  Mrs.  Bowen,  with  whom  fair  one  number 
two  is  stopping,  the  wife  of  the  barber,  inhabiting 
a  house  with  three  doors  on  the  street — shop  door, 
house  door,  and  door  into  somewhere,  in  the  true 
Doric  style — five  high,  narrow,  many-paned,  shutter- 
less  windows,  in  rows  above,  in  the  true — " 

"  The  same,"  I  replied.  "  Now  listen,  Roy,  I 
have  something  to  tell  you  about  this  young  lady 
that  will  interest  you." 

"  Is  she  a  countess  also,  this  foster  child  of  Sam 
Bowen's  wife,  who  inhabits  a  square,  red  brick  house 
with  three  doors  opening  on  the  street,  in  the  true 
Doric  style,  five  windows  on  each  floor  above,  in  the 
true  Windoric  style.  House  ornamented  with  gar- 
ish gargoyles,  in  ribbons  of  red  and  white — bar- 
ber's poles,  in  the  true — no,  come  to  think,  gargoyles 
belong  to  the  Gothic  style — a  very  mixed  architect- 
ure you  see.  But  pardon  me,  you  were  going  to 
tell  me  something  that  would  interest  me  about  this 
young  lady  who  is  stopping  in  a  house  with  three — " 

"Enough!"  I  exclaimed,  "don't  ring  any  more 
changes  on  that  theme.  I  should  like  at  least  to 
have  her  think  I  have  brought  a  sane  friend  with 


AN  AMERICAN  CO UNTESS.  $ 2/ 

me.  You  are  the  most  absurd  fellow  alive,  but  I 
had  rather  not  have  her  know  it." 

Roy  laughed  lightly. 

"  But  you  were  going  to  tell  me  something  about 
hsr,"  he  urged  again,  "  something  that — " 

"  I  have  changed  my  mind,"  I  interrupted.  "  I 
shall  leave  the  denouement  until  you  see  the  young 
lady  herself." 

Roy  continued  asking  questions  that  I  parried 
until  the  hansom  stopped  at  Sam  Bowen's  door,  and 
ringing  his  house  bell,  I  inquired  of  the  waiting  girl 
for  Miss  Leighton. 

Roy  caught  the  name,  giving  me  a  quick  look, 
but  had  no  time  for  remark,  as  we  were  shown  into 
the  parlor  where  my  sister  was  trying  the  harp  I 
had  sent  her.  He  took  all  in  at  a  glance  as  I  intro- 
duced him  to  Cecil,  and  dropping  his  drolling,  he 
became  at  once  serious  and  entertaining,  exerting 
himself  with  an  evident  determination  to  please. 

My  sister  played  for  us  on  the  harp,  and  with  a 
maestria  that  thrilled  me  with  pride,  and  I  could 
understand  how  well  she  would  please  in  concert 
and  command  sufficient  to  supply  deficiencies  at 
critical  times  that  chanced  from  my  father's  im- 
provident carelessness. 

"  You  were  abroad  with  my  brother  Caryl,  were 
you  not,  Mr.  Hildreth  ?"  asked  Cecil,  quitting  her 
harp  and  taking  a  seat  near  us. 

"  I  had  that  pleasure,  Miss  Leighton — following 
as  closely  in  his  illustrious  footsteps  as  I  could 
without  serious  damage  to  my  health." 


323 


UJt/XA'A  : 


Cecil  opened  her  eyes  wide  on  Roy. 

"  Do  you  mean,  Mr.  Hildreth,  that  my  brother  ^ 
was  such  a  student  that — ?"  she  asked  and  stopped. 

"Yes,  Miss  Leighton,  that  is  what  I  meant,"  re- 
turned Roy,  lightly,  with  a  slight  laugh.  "  I  have  a 
tremendous  admiration  for  industry  and  achieve- 
ment and  that,  but  a  constitutional  aversion  to  work. 
And  whilst  Caryl  worked  like  a  steam-engine,  or  a 
man  in  dead  earnest,  bound  to  win,  I  did  much 
loafing.  The  consequence  is  that  while  I  have 
nothing  to  show  for  my  twenty-four  years,  Caryl 
has  become  famous.  He  has  a  fortune  in  his 
fingers — his  playing  be!ng  equal  to  Liszt's,  almost ; 
and  a  fortune  in  his  ruled  paper  and  dots,  his  music 
being  equal  to  Mozart's — almost ;  and — " 

"  Well  put  in,"  I  interrupted. 

"  Do  you  write  music,  Brother  Caryl,"  asked 
Cecil,  with  an  amused  look. 

"  Ask  the  sun  if  it  can  shine,  Miss  Leighton," 
said  Roy,  quickly.  "  Ask  the  ocean  if  it  ever  roars. 
Ask  the  wind  if  it  ever  blows.  Caryl  is  making  a 
name,  Miss  Leighton,  and  it  will  be  a  great  one. 
What  he  writes  is  music — living,  breathing,  pulsat- 
ing melody,  allied  to  glorious  harmony — not  dead 
sound  or  senseless  jingle  such  as  some  of  our  mod- 
ern composers  grind  out.  I  will  play  you  his  last  • 
concerto  in  E  flat  major,  and  you  can  judge  for 
yourself." 

As  Roy  played  on  Mrs.  Bowen's  piano,  Cecil  lis- 
tened, and  so  attentively  that  I  felt  a  growing 
respect  for  my  own  composition. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

"  With  Roy  Hildreth  to  sing  my  praises,  I  stand 
a  good  chance  of  becoming  famous,"  I  said,  when 
he  was  through  playing  and  my  sister  had  said  :  "  If 
Caryl  writes  like  that  no  wonder  you  admire  his 
music,  Mr.  Hildreth." 

"  I  am  three  years  Caryl's  senior,  Miss  Leigh- 
ton,  and  from  our  school-days  I  have  founded  my- 
self on  him — though  I  cannot  flatter  myself  that  I 
have  been  successful  in  achieving  much  of  a  resem- 
blance." 

"  Do  you  also  write  music,  Mr.  Hildreth?"  askeJ 
Cecil,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  take  a  back  seat  and  listen.  The  most 
I  can  do  is  a  little  in  our  modern  decorative  art ; 
bits,  you  know,  contadinas  at  wells  balancing  water 
buckets  on  their  heads  and  that." 

"  Roy  maligns  his  skill,  I  assure  you,  Cecil.  He 
has  amused  himself  with  blowing  my  trumpet ;  I 
will  retaliate.  All  he  needs  is  application.  He  is 
really  quite  a  dabster  (if  I  may  use  the  word)  with 
his  brush — can  paint — " 

"  Caryl  means  daubster,  Miss  Leighton,"  broke  in 
Roy,  with  his  careless  laugh. 

"  When  I  have  the  opportunity  I  shall  judge  for 
myself,  Mr.  Hildreth,  as  yourself  advised  when  you 
played  for  me  my  brother's  concerto.  Did  you 
study  the  old  masters  much  when  you  were  abroad  ?" 
asked  Cecil,  smiling  pleasantly  and  looking  into 
Roy's  mocking  eyes. 

"  The  old  masters,  Miss  Leighton.  Oh,  no ! 
Like  a  celebrated  artist  I  know,  I  also  was  afraid  I 


330 


BRINKA  : 


should  get  to  paint  like  them,"  returned  Roy, 
lightly. 

Cecil  laughed. 

"  Think  of  the  labor,  Miss  Leighton,  it  takes  to 
excel !  One  can  play  at  painting  in  our  modern 
decorative  school,  and  get  quite  pretty  effects ;  quite 
passable  things.  Caryl  here,  as  I  said  before,  works. 
He  can  and  will  give  to  the  world  master-pieces — 
not  on  canvass  to  delight  the  eye,  but  in  ravishing 
sounds  to  delight  the  ear.  It  is  work,  after  all,  that 
tells.  Just  imagine  the  millions  of  dots — with  stems 
to  them — Rossini,  Mozart,  Beethoven  and  company 
had  to  make  to  produce  the  vast  number  of  great 
works  they  bestowed  on  the  listening  world." 

"  But  they  had  to  make  only  one  dot  at  a  time," 
suggested  Cecil,  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"  Dot  after  dot ;  line  after  line.  How  weary  Mo- 
zart's pen  must  have  been  in  achieving  such  a  her- 
culean record  as  his.  And  the  great  Handel's 
dots  were  legion,  some  of  them  being  the  size  of  a 
marrowfat  pea  and  some  of  a  pin's  point  in  the 
hurry  of  his  inspiration — his  printers  having  a  time 
of  it  in  reading  his  manuscript.  He  was  indefatigable 
and  his  works  indestructible." 

"  Then  it  is  only  the  dread  of  the  labor  that  keeps 
you  from  writing  music,  Mr.  Hildreth  ?"  persisted 
Cecil. 

"  You  might  add  to  that  the  lack  of  genius,  Miss 
Leighton ;  that  may  possibly  have  something  to  do 
with  it,"  mocked  Hildreth,  with  a  light  laugh.  "  When 
Rossini  was  thirty-seven  he  had  already  written 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS.  3  3  r 

thirty-seven  successful  operas,  and  he  had  a  consti- 
tutional objection  to  work  (in  that  at  least  I  resem- 
ble him)  and  loved  the  dolce  far  niente.  But  he 
had  genius  to  back  him  and  urge  him  on." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  returned  Cecil,  "  he  wrote 
thirty-four  of  his  first  operas  within  thirteen 
years." 

"  All  done  under  protest ;  his  musical  ideas  over- 
whelmed him,  and  he  was  forced  to  put  them  on 
paper  to  get  away  from  himself.  But  his  love  of 
idleness  asserted  itself,  beguiling  him  into  habits  of 
procrastination ;  and  in  that  again,  Rossini  and  I 
are  alike,  it  being  my  creed  never  to  do  to-day  what 
can  be  put  off  till  to-morrow.  It  was  Rossini's  little 
joke  that  the  length  of  time  he  had  composed  for 
an  Impressario  could  be  determined  by  the  more  or 
less  hair  on  Impressario's  head — the  balder  the  Im- 
pressario the  more  operas  had  been  contracted  for, 
paid  for,  announced  to  the  public,  but  had  not  been 
forthcoming  until  the  second,  even  the  third  an- 
nouncement— Impressario  fuming,  wild  with  an- 
guish, public  impatient  and  expectant,  Composer 
serene,  taking  it  easy,  until  locked  in  a  room  by 
stratagem,  with  pen,  ink,  and  ruled  paper,  in  some 
nobleman's  chateau,  where  he  had  been  invited  to 
dine.  Then,  working  furiously  night  and  day  for  a 
week  or  ten  days — going  into  the  room  round,  rosy, 
and  sleek ;  coming  out  of  the  room  pale,  cadaver- 
ous, lean  to  emaciation — he  would  have  an  opera 
in  his  hand  that  set  the  world  on  fire." 

"  Perhaps  if  you  were  to  be  locked  in  a  room 


332 


BR1NKA  : 


with  pen,  ink,  and  ruled  paper  you  also  might  pro- 
duce operas  that  would  set  the  world  on  fire.  Has 
the  experiment  been  tried?"  suggested  Cecil. 

"  Ah  !  there  the  similarity  between  the  great  com- 
poser and  myself  ends,"  returned  Roy,  laughing. 
"  Caryl,  here,  will  write  operas ;  in  fact,  has  written 
one,  that  has  not  yet  seen  the  light  of  day — the 
foot-lights  rather." 

"  Caryl  has  a  good  friend  in  you,  Mr.  Hildreth." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  returned  Roy,  "  we  are  excessively 
fond  of  each  other,  or  I  am  of  him.  We  are  called 
the  Inseparables,  David  and  Jonathan,  Damon  and 
Pythias." 

Cecil's  quiet  eyes,  large  and  solemn  as  a  child's, 
left  Roy's  face,  where  they  had  been  resting  while 
he  was  addressing  her,  and  sought  mine  with  a  puz- 
zled, inquiring  look  that  changed  into  one  of  such 
confidence  as  plainly  said,  although  she  could  not 
quite  make  Roy  out,  she  had  the  fullest  trust  in  me. 
It  was  charmingly  naive,  and  dashed  Roy  not  a 
little  I  could  see. 

Good,  motherly  Mrs.  Bowen  just  then  came  into 
the  room,  followed  by  her  two  youngest  children,  and 
we  paid  our  respects  to  her  accordingly. 

I  thanked  her  for  her  kind  care  of  my  sister,  and 
she  spoke  of  being  sorry  to  lose  Cecil  so  soon,  as 
Miss  Vaughan  had  prevailed  on  her  to  stop  with 
her,  until  we  all  went  back  to  Elm  Ridge. 

"  I  am  expecting  Miss  Vaughan  every  moment," 
added  Cecil.  "  She  made  a  long  call  on  me,  and 
would  not  take  no  for  an  answer.  After  she  was 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS.  333 

gone  I  put  together  some  of  my  belongings,  and  her 
footman  is  to  come  for  them." 

"  I  was  intending  to  call  for  you  this  afternoon 
and  take  you  home,  Cecil ;  I  so  wired  to  Mrs.  Rep- 
sneider,"  I  said,  not  sorry  of  the  excuse  to  linger 
on  still  in  the  same  house  with  Brinka.  "  But  as 
you  have  promised  Miss  Vaughan  a  visit  we  will 
put  off  Elm  Ridge  a  day  or  two,  and  I  will  send 
another  telegram  to  Mrs.  Repsneider  explaining." 

"  Miss  Vaughan  gave  me  an  invitation  also;  I 
now  regret  exceedingly  that  I  did  not  accept  it." 
Roy  said  this  so  impressively  that  Cecil  gave  him 
another  questioning,  quiet  look. 

"  Miss  Vaughan  is  a  very  lovely  person,"  said 
she,  the  faintest  blush  overspreading  her  face.  "  I 
shall  be  certain  to  become  greatly  attached  to  her, 
Caryl,"  and  she  turned  to  me.  "  I  never  before 
knew  a  girl  of  my  own  age  I  admire  so  much  and 
feel  so  sure  of  liking."  Cecil  spoke  with  the  quiet 
enthusiasm  I  had  before  observed  in  her,  and  I 
blessed  her  in  my  heart  for  her  kind  thoughts  and 
words  of  Brinka. 

"  I  hope  Miss  Vaughan  will  not  prevail  on  you 
to  protract  your  stay  to  an  indefinite  period,  Miss 
Leighton ;  Caryl  having  been  so  fortunate  as  to  find 
his  sister,  will  never  feel  content  to  return  to  Elm 
Ridge  without  her.  I  speak  for  myself  as  well,  for 
I  go  to  Elm  Ridge  with  the  Professor  and  Caryl. 
Elm  Ridge,  you  know,  is  my  adopted  home." 

Roy  looked  unutterable  things,  and  spoke  with  a 
seriousness  unusual  to  him,  which  was  lost  on  Cecil, 


334  BRIXKA: 

who  innocently  failed  to  understand  his  admiring  re- 
gards. She  replied  very  sweetly  and  very  quietly 
that  she  would  be  ready  to  accompany  her  brother 
Caryl  to  his  home,  whenever  he  was  ready  for  her. 

We  had  risen  to  go,  and  on  our  way  out  of  the 
house  Roy  and  I  stopped  in  at  Sam's  shop  and 
chatted  awhile  with  him  and  his  eldest  son,  the 
same  with  whom  I  had  made  acquaintance  fourteen 
years  before  as  a  boy  of  my  own  age.  He  was  now 
a  quiet,  pleasant  young  fellow,  much  like  his  father, 
whom  he  was  assisting  in  his  tonsorial  duties.  Roy 
and  I  submitted  each  a  head  and  face  to  be  operated 
upon,  Sam  being  an  artist  in  his  profession,  with  a 
large  establishment  and  many  men  in  his  employ. 
We  had  a  private  room,  and  Sam  entertained  us 
with  his  usual  quaint  remarks. 

Mort  Binns,  he  said,  had  married  a  few  years  be- 
fore. Did  I  remember  Mort  ?  Well,  he  had,  since 
his  marriage,  completely  changed  his  views  of  wo- 
mankind. 

"  He  looks  on  women  now,"  continued  Sam, 
snipping  the  ends  of  my  moustache  with  his  shears 
and  stopping  to  enlarge  on  its  luxuriant  growth 
(for.  long  had  I  wrestled  with  the  insignificance  of 
the  same,  at  first  despairingly,  for  the  past  two 
years  with  the  triumph  of  a  victor).  "  He  looks  on 
women  now  in  the  light  of  unadulterated  angels,  and 
considers  nothing  too  good  for  them,  especially  his 
wife — for  whom  his  admiration  and  adoration  is 
simply — im — me  use.  He  says  the  world  would 
have  gone  to  the  bad  long  ago  if  it  had  not  been  for 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


335 


the  saving  grace  of  lovely  woman.  He  writes  odes 
and  epics  and  essays  in  praise  of  woman.  He  sent 
me  an  illuminated  pamphlet  the  other  day,  printed 
at  his  own  expense — publishers  refusing.  It  begins: 
'  Oh,  woman !  Thou  art  to  man,  when  cold  adver- 
sity assails  and  cancels  him,  a  healing  draught; 
which,  when  drank,  it  courses  through  every  ab- 
struse channel  of  his  perturbed  mind,  and  adds  new 
vigor  to  his  loathsome  body,  decayed  by  vice  and 
folly.'  There  are  a  good  many  pages  of  it  in  the 
same  highfalutin  strain,  and  it  is — well,  it  is  simply 
im — mense" 

Sam  Bowen  removed  the  barber's  towel  from  un- 
der my  chin  much  as  he  did  nearly  fifteen  years 
before  in  his  shop  in  Providence,  after  I  had  eaten 
the  apricots  he  gave  me. 

As  we  emerged  from  the  shop  we  found  the 
Vaughan  carriage  before  the  door,  with  Jenkins  in 
his  coachman's  seat,  Roberts  by  the  curb-stone  in 
front  of  the  carriage,  and  Lady  Griselda  seated 
within  as  erect  as  a  church  spire.  Just  then  Brinka 
and  Cecil  appearing  at  the  front  door,  with  Mrs. 
Bowen  to  see  them  off,  I  handed  them  into  the  car- 
riage. Brinka,  from  the  window,  asked  me  if  we 
(Roy  and  I)  would  not  get  in  and  drive  around  to 
the  house  with  them.  The  question  was  simple 
enough,  but  I  found  a  certain  modulated  tone  in  her 
voice  that  I  never  heard  her  use  in  speaking  to  any 
one  else,  and  a  certain  softened  look  in  her  dark 
eyes  as  their  full  glory  shone  upon  me  that  brimmed 
my  heart  with  a  sweet  delight,  And  I  was  about 


336  BRLVKA: 

to  accept  her  offer  and  enter  the  carnage,  when 
Roy  declared  I  was  under  an  imperative  engage- 
ment to  him,  and  that  later  on  we  should  be  happy 
to  call  on  her  and  Miss  Leighton. 

"  I  speak  for  both  Caryl  and  myself,"  he  added, 
with  a  light  laugh.  "  The  hansom  over  there,  that 
brought  us  here,  has  been  waiting  for  us  an  hour  or 
more,"  said  he,  "you  would  not  be  so  cruel,  Miss 
Vaughan,  as  to  rob  the  driver  of  his  prey?" 

"  Cecil  and  I  will  expect  you  and  Mr.  Wye,  then, 
very  soon.  We  think  it  scarcely  fair  of  you,  Mr. 
Hildreth,  to  remain  at  a  hotel,"  and  Brinka  turned 
to  me  as  if  for  corroboration  of  her  assertion, 
"  when  your  friends  are  with  us.  We  would  be  so 
pleased  to  have  you  make  our  house  your  home." 

"  I  have  told  Roy  the  same,  Miss  Vaughan,"  I  said. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,  Miss  Vaughan,"  began 
Roy  in  extenuation,  "  but  my  traps — excuse  me, 
my  trunks  being  at  the  hotel — " 

"  Traps  will  answer,  Mr.  Hildreth,"  replied  Brinka, 
with  a  half  laugh.  "  It  sounds  breezy,  and  puts  one 
in  mind  of  the  woods — though  individually,  I  do 
not  approve  of  traps.  I  always  liberate  all  the  rab- 
bits and  squirrels  I  find  imprisoned  in  traps  in  my 
forest  rambles." 

Good  morning  was  said,  the  Lady  Griselda  ac- 
cording us  a  stifif  bow  and  her  eternal  smile,  and 
they  drove  on,  Brinka  leaving  with  me  a  smile  of 
adieu  and  a  half  questioning  glance  from  her  won- 
derful eyes  that  left  me  debating  with  myself  what 
its  import  might  be. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


337 


Roy  hailed  the  hansom  and  gave  directions  to 
the  driver,  but  otherwise  was  unusually  silent  until 
we  were  in  his  room. 

"  Caryl,"  said  he,  as  he  motioned  to  me  to  be 
seated  (his  room  was  luxurious  in  -stuffed  arm- 
chairs), "  have  you  any  fault  to  find  with  me  ?" 

"  Fault  to  find  with  you ! "  I  repeated.  "  No,  cer- 
tainly not.  Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"  Your  sister  is  an  angel.  A  saint,  Saint  Cecilia — " 

"  Those  were  Miss  Vaughan's  words  concerning 
her.  Well  ?"  I  comprehended  his  drift  now,  but 
gave  no  sign,  leaving  the  initiative  with  him. 

"  I  am  desperately,  madly  in  love  with  her — " 

"  You  have  been  desperately,  madly  in  love  so 
many  times,  you  know,"  said  I. 

"  Passing  fancies.  All  passing  fancies,  my  dear 
Caryl.  This  is  real.  You,  who  have  never  been  in 
love  but  once,  you,  who  have  never  had  any  passing 
fancies,  cannot  realize  the  difference.  But  you  will 
see.  My  time  has  come  at  last,  and  I  shall  never 
be  happy  again  until  your  lovely  sister  has  con- 
sented to  take  my  name.  And  what  I  wish  to  know 
is — is  there  any  one  else  ?" 

Understanding  him,  I  replied  that  I  judged  not. 
— that  there  was  a  certain  detestable  lawyer,  whom 
she  detested,  who  was  obtruding  his  attentions  upon 
her. 

"  Then  she  is  heart-free,  and  I  stand  a  chance," 
exclaimed  Roy,  with  whimsical  fervor. 

"  To  the  best  of  my  belief,  yes,"  I  said. 

"  Then,  what  I  also  wish  to  know  is — have  you 


338  ER1NKA: 

any  objection  to  me  as  a  brother-in-law  ?  If  so, 
state  your  objections  now,  and  forever  after  hold 
your  peace." 

I  replied  to  Roy's  half  whimsical  request,  know- 
ing him  to  be  wholly  in  earnest,  in  a  few  strong 
words,  giving  him  to  understand  that  to  no  one 
under  the  sun  would  I  so  willingly  resign  my  sister 
as  to  him. 

"  That  settles  the  question,"  said  he,  and  we  shook 
hands  upon  it  with  a  long,  warm  grip.  "  It  only 
remains,"  he  continued,  "  to  see  if  I  can  win  her 
love.  I  am  terribly  hard  hit,"  Roy  gave  a  half 
laugh,  "  and  terribly  determined.  And,  as  I  am  a 
pretty  good-looking  fellow,  as  fellows  go,  though 
not  so  good  looking,  of  course,  as  you,  perhaps  in 
the  end  she  may  take  me.  Now  let  us  go  to  the 
Vaughan's." 


A.V AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


339 


XXXIII. 

AN  IMPROMPTU  AFFAIR. 

WE  had  returned  to  Elm  Ridge,  the  Duke,  the 
Countess  Brinka  and  the  Lady  Griselda  ac- 
companying us.  Blythe  also  was  with  us,  and  his 
little  mother,  with  her  newly  gained  millions,  no 
longer  necessitated  to  officiate  in  the  housekeeper's 
rooms,  was  supremely  happy  in  the  presence  of  her 
son. 

Basking  in  the  Countess  Brinka's  smiles,  and  in 
the  glory  of  her  dark  eyes,  I  was  supremely  happy 
also,  reflecting  as  seldom  as  possible  on  the  chances 
of  the  Duke's  acceptance  of  my  suit  for  her  hand, 
when  the  time  came  for  the  request  I  should  some 
day  make. 

I  had  seen  Captain  Corrie  just  before  we  left  New 
York,  at  Professor  Wye's  instigation,  to  urge  upon 
his  acceptance  the  handsome  reward  the  Professor 
offered  him  for  his  late  services.  But  he  would  ac- 
cept nothing  except  the  two  thousand  dollars  prom- 
ised to  the  girl  who  had  been  waitress  in  Clavel's 
billiard-rooms,  and  the  expenses  for  her  journey  to 
California,  saying  to  me,  as  he  looked  into  my  face 
with  steady  eyes : 

"  Mr.  Wye,  if  I  have  been  the  means  of  getting 


340 


BRINKA  : 


your  best  friend  out  of  the  clutches  of  that  infer — 
that  murderous  gang,  I  feel  that  in  some  measure  I 
have  made  restitution  for  the  great  wrong  I  did  you 
when  you  were  so  wee  and  helpless,  that  if  you 
lived,  it  was  as  much  as  you  could  do.  And  if  I 
should  take  that  money  Professor  Wye  so  gener- 
ously offers  me  I  would  lose  that  feeling.  It  was 
very  little  I  did  at  the  best,  for  Professor  Wye  would 
have  been  given  up  in  three  days  more  by  that — by 
that  brute,  Repsneider,  though  at  the  loss  of  the  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  ransom  money — 
which  is  a  heavy  sum  to  lose,  even  in  these  days  of 
millions." 

We  were  all  assembled  in  the  great  drawing-room 
at  Elm  Ridge,  except  Blythe  and  his  mother,  who 
were  out  for  a  drive,  and  I  was  detailing  my  inter- 
view with  Captain  Corrie,  giving  a  description  of 
how  he  had  gotten  the  girl  off  in  the  steamer.  We 
were  interested  in  this  girl,  as  being  the  instrument 
used  by  Captain  Corrie  in  effecting  Professor  Wye's 
release,  and  had  all  contributed  gifts  to  her  of  more 
or  less  value.  In  speaking  of  the  various  points  of 
information  Captain  Corrie  had  given  me,  I  did  not 
mention  his  refusal  of  the  Professor's  money,  as  it 
would  bring  up  my  child-life  at  the  Red  House. 
That  I  had  given  to  the  Professor  in  private. 

From  the  girl  and  her  journey  to  California  we 
found  ourselves  relating  California  experiences. 

"  It  is  justly  called  the  Golden  State,  and  Southern 
California  the  '  Garden  of  the  World,' "  said  the  Pro- 
fessor kindling  into  a  quiet  enthusiasm.  "  No  words 


AX  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


341 


can  be  too  glowing  to  describe  the  picturesque 
beauty  of  its  varied  scenery  and  the  delicious  qual- 
ity of  its  atmosphere." 

"  You  speak  truly,  Professor  Wye,"  observed  Mr. 
Vaughan,  with  stately  courtesy.  "  There  is  not  on 
earth  a  spot  to  compare  with  it  for  fine  scenery." 

"  I  thought  of  turning  hermit,  and  taking  up  my 
abode  in  one  of  the  big  trees  of  the  Calaveras,  hol- 
lowed out  to  hand.  I  tried  for  one  in  the  Mariposa 
Grove,  but  being  ceded  by  Congress  as  a  public  re- 
sort forever,  it  had  no  tree  for  rent." 

"  Why  did  you  give  up  the  plan,  Mr.  Hildreth  ?" 
asked  Brinka.  "  It  would  have  been  charming." 

"  I  found  I  could  not  get  a  piano  inside,  with  all 
the  rest  of  the  furniture  I  needed,"  returned  Roy. 

"  I  picked  out  my  tree,"  said  Cecil,  her  face  slightly 
flushing  (her  face  always  flushed  when  she  spoke 
in  a  room  full,  from  sheer  sensitiveness).  "  My  tree 
was  in  the  Fresno  Grove,  and  would  have  held  a 
piano  easily,  with  a  whole  set  of  furniture  ;  but  papa 
did  not  remain  long  enough  for  me  to  have  it  put 
in  order.  It  had  been  hollowed  out  by  a  forest  fire, 
and  left  standing  with  wide-spreading,  luxuriant 
branches  in  full  leaf." 

"  That  is  the  charm  of  those  burned  out  trees. 
They  stand  fresh  and  green,  with  just  sufficient  of 
their  outer  surface  remaining  to  feed  their  huge 
branches,"  returned  Mr.  Vaughan,  rather  as  though 
reciting  from  a  book. 

"  Why  can  we  not  make  up  a  party  and  visit  the 
land  of  big  trees  ?"  asked  Brinka,  "  the  '  Garden  of 


342 


BRINKA  : 


the  World,'  the  land  of  mountains  towering  to  the 
sky,  of  canyons  half  way  down  to  China ;  the  land 
of  wonders  and  delights  ?  I  have  long  wished  to 
revisit  California.  I  have  not  been  there  since  I 
was  a  little  girl.  Can  we  not  all  go  ?  I  am  certain 
Professor  Wye  needs  the  recreation  of  travel  and 
the  salubrious  air  of  California  to  shake  off  the 
effects  of  his  late  disagreeable  experience.  What 
do  you  think  of  the  plan,  Mr.  Wye  ?" 

Thus  appealed  to,  I  expressed  my  unqualified 
approval,  offering  my  services  toward  furthering  her 
wishes.  I  should  have  been  equally  charmed  if  she 
had  proposed  a  journey  to  the  unknown  regions  of 
Africa,  or  a  voyage  to  the  North  pole,  provided  I 
could  accompany  her. 

Mr.  Vaughan  surprised  me  by  catching  up  his 
daughter's  proposal  with  some  spirit,  remarking  to 
her  that  it  might  be  made  a  pleasant  trip  for  her 
friend,  Miss  Leighton,  could  she  be  induced  to  make 
one  of  the  party. 

Why  he  singled  out  my  sister  puzzled  me  at  the 
time,  but  it  was  not  long  before  it  was  made  appar- 
ent to  me. 

"  How  is  it,  Cecil"  (they  had  gotten  to  the  Cecil 
and  Brinka  stage  of  intimacy),  asked  the  Countess, 
turning  to  Cecil  an  animated  face — "  you  will  go  if 
I  go,  is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure,  my 
dear  Brinka.  It  will  be  as  my  brother  says ;  I  refer 
all  my  goings  to  him,"  and  Cecil  glanced  from 
Brinka  to  me  with  one  of  her  pretty,  quiet  smiles. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

Her  naive  candor  I  saw  charmed  Mr.  Vaughan 
more  than  ever,  and  he  watched,  with  a  critical  eye, 
the  soft  color  suffusing  her  delicate  face,  and  the 
half  smile  come  and  go. 

"  Your  brother  would  not  think  of  going  without 
you,  Miss  Leighton,  now  he  has  found  you,"  he 
forestalled  me  in  replying,  "  any  more  than  Professor 
Wye  would  go  without  your  brother,  or  I  without 
my  daughter." 

"  To  the  last  I  can  testify  as  a  non-supposable 
case,"  said  Brinka,  turning  upon  her  father  her  vivid 
dark  eyes,  with  a  teasing  smile. 

"  As  you  say,  my  dear,  a  non-supposable  case," 
returned  Mr.  Vaughan,  taking  his  admiring  eyes 
from  my  sister  to  let  them  dwell  on  his  daughter, 
with  the  fond  look  he  always  bestowed  on  her.  "  I 
could  not  imagine  myself  going  without  my  little 
girl,"  he  added. 

"  Whoever  I  marry,  if  I  ever  chance  to  marry, 
will  have  to  marry  papa  also.  It  will  have  to  be 
announced  as  '  marriage  extraordinary,'  as  they  an- 
nounce official  plenipotentiary  doings,"  declared 
Brinka,  with  another  teasing  laugh. 

"  Fathers  like  to  take  daughters  with  them,  I 
think,"  said  Cecil.  "  My  father  would  scarcely  go 
anywhere  without  me." 

"  His  one  redeeming  trait,"  I  was  going  to  say, 
but  checked  myself,  in  consideration  of  its  not  being 
a  very  filial  sentiment. 

"  It  is  only  some  daughters  that  fathers  like  to 
take  with  them,"  gallantly  declared  the  Duke. 


344 


BRINK  A  : 


"  Mr.  Vaughan  is  coming  on  very  rapidly,"  was 
my  mental  comment ;  a  sudden  perception  flashing 
upon  me  when,  looking  at  him  more  narrowly,  I 
saw  his  cold,  gray  eyes  bent  on  my  sister  in  evident 
admiration.  And  that  she  was  innocently  unaware 
of  his  excessive  admiration  was  evident  to  me  also. 
Her  look  had  just  returned  from  a  stray  glance  be- 
stowed upon  Roy  Hildreth,  who,  silent  for  once,  \vas 
seriously  observant  of  all  that  passed. 

"  Should  we  go  to  California,  Miss  Leighton," 
resumed  Mr.  Vaughan,  with  bland  impressiveness, 
"  you  would  have  an  admirable  opportunity  of 
selecting  from  among  the  Sequoia  gigantca  your 
future  residence ;  and  in  furnishing  your  hollow 
tree  I  would  suggest  your  harp  be  not  omitted. 
Your  friends  would  feel  honored  if  invited  to  visit 
you."  And  Mr.  Vaughan  smiled  urbanely. 

"  Papa  is  bent  on  going,  I  see  ;  and  as  his  stately 
arguments  always  carry  a  convincing  weight  with 
them,  we  are  sure  to  go.  I  am  certain  of  it,"  said 
Brinka,  with  a  soft  laugh.  I  thought  I  had  never 
seen  her  eyes  so  bright  (though  I  had  thought  that 
many  times  before),  and  as  they  met  mine  (her  eyes 
often  met  mine  now),  there  was  an  abiding  pathos 
beneath  their  brightness  that  thrilled  me  inexpres- 
sibly. 

"As  you  say,  my  dear,  I  am  rather  bent  on  going 
if  we  can  arrange  our  plans  satisfactorily.  How  is 
it,  Professor  Wye?  We  may  count  on  you,  may  we 
not,  and  for  an  early  start?"  demanded  the  Duke, 
deferring  by  look  to  the  Professor. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


345 


"  Yes,  Professor  Wye,"  echoed  Brinka,  lifting  her 
eyes  to  the  Professor's  face  with  an  appealing  look — 
and  I  worshiped  more  than  ever  the  childlike  direct- 
ness that  prompted  it — "we  may  count  on  you, 
may  we  not?" 

"When  a  minister  of  State  is  about  to  be  dis- 
missed, he  is  invited  to  resign.  When  an  ordinary 
individual  is  expected  to  accede  to  a  startling  propo- 
sition, he  may  as  well  say  yes  on  the  spot,  while  he 
can  gain  some  credit  for  magnanimity.  Therefore, 
I  can  only  say,  my  dear  young  lady,  do  with  me  as 
you  will.  Caryl,  I  see,  approves.  I  will  do  no  less. 
Certainly,  Mr.  Vaughan,  you  may  count  on  me.  I 
stipulate  only  that  my  sister  make  one  of  the  party. 
What  do  you  say,  Emily?"  he  continued,  turning  to 
Mrs.  Repsneider ;  "  will  you  accompany  us  ?  You 
have  had  so  much  that  is  unpleasant  to  think  of,  of 
late,  that  a  change  will  benefit  you." 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  accompany  you,  brother 
Norman.  A  pleasant  change  will  benefit  us  all," 
returned  gentle,  unassuming  Mrs.  Repsneider,  with 
her  brother's  smile. 

Nothing  could  please  Mr.  Vaughan  more  than  to 
have  Mrs.  Repsneider  honor  the  party  by  her  pres- 
ence, he  affirmed,  and  he  further  proposed  that  Mr. 
Blythe  and  his  mother  be  consulted,  as  soon  as  they 
returned  from  their  drive,  as  to  whether  they  would 
not  also  like  to  join  in  the  contemplated  trip. 

"Mrs.  Bfythe,"  he  asserted,  "having,  through  her 
son,  the  command  of  millions,  is  a  person  to  be 
considered.  She  has  always  been  an  indispcn- 


346 


BRINKA  : 


sable  friend  to  Mrs.  Repsneider,  I  have  observed, 
and—" 

"Always,"  returned  Mrs.  Repsneider,  with  gentle 
warmth — "  the  best  friend  I  ever  had  except  my 
brother  Norman." 

"Why,  my  dear  papa!"  exclaimed  Brinka,  strange 
lights  chasing  each  other  in  her  dark  eyes;  "Mrs. 
Blythe  would  be  conferring  a  favor  on  any  party  by 
her  presence  without  the  command  of  millions.  She 
is  so  good,  and  so  true,  and  so — " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear ;  quite  right,  my  dear,"  the 
Duke  broke  in;  "as  I  said,  an  estimable  lady;  and 
her  son  I  have  known  for  several  years,  without,  of 
course,  knowing  his  relationship  to  his  own  mother 
— a  remarkable  coincidence,  truly.  He  is  one  of 
America's  (of  your  country's,  my  dear)  self-made 
men,  and  scarcely  thirty  years  old.  A  certain  re- 
spect is  always  due  to  success.  A  man  who  has 
achieved  such  immense  wealth  must  add  dignity 
to  any  society  in  which  he  may  move." 

"  It  is  very  difficult,  papa,  to  say  who  is  most 
worthy  of  respect,  a  man  who  has  made  sixty  or 
eighty  millions  in  hard  cash,  or  the  man  utterly 
penniless — we  have  such  abroad,  papa — who  can 
claim  a  roll  of  titled  ancestry  that  dates  back  to 
the  flood." 

"Ah,  my  dear,  you  are  sarcastic,"  returned  Mr. 
Vaughan,  with  a  cold  laugh.  "But  you  always 
were  a  rank  little  Republican — calling  yourself  an 
American  countess,  forsooth !  Some  of  these  days 
you  will  know  and  appreciate  the  value  of  station 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


347 


and  the  value  of — well,  of  money.  Is  it  not  so, 
Professor  Wye,  we  acquire  wisdom  with  our  years?" 

The  Professor,  with  one  of  his  impenetrable 
smiles,  replied,  that  as  standing  still  was  opposed 
to  the  laws  of  the  universe,  it  was  certainly  reason- 
able to  presume  that  we  ought  to  progress  forward 
rather  than  backward  with  our  years. 

"Thank  you,  Professor  Wye — a  truly  Sphinxian 
reply,"  exclaimed  Brinka,  laughing. 

"  One  that  will  work  either  way,  like  a  river  ferry- 
boat," I  added,  and  then  bethought  me  that  my 
simile  reflected  on  Mr.  Vaughan. 

But  that  gentleman  took  no  umbrage,  replying 
blandly  that  Professor  Wye's  epigrams  were  quite 
apt  to  savor  of  the  Bunsby  school.  And  with  a 
short  laugh  he  added  :  "  But  I  shall  interpret  your 
oracle,  my  dear  Professor,  in  my  favor,  and  shall 
hold  to  my  own  opinion." 

"  Better  acknowledge  yourself  beaten,  papa,  and 
own  that  the  rising  generation  has  the  monopoly  of 
wisdom." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,  I  acknowledge  the  rising 
generation  thinks  it  has,"  returned  the  Duke,  with 
elaborate  courtesy. 

"  We  have  strayed  from  California,  papa,  upon 
grounds  marked  dangerous,"  said  Brinka,  laughing 
softly.  "  Let  us  return  and  settle  our  plans  du 
voyage? 

"  I  think,  my  dear,  I  have  several  times  com- 
mented on  the  practice  of  interlarding  one  lan- 
guage with  phrases  of  another.  The  best  usage 


348  BRINKA  : 

decides,  I  think,  that  one  language  at  a  time  is 
sufficient." 

"  Tout  an  contraire,  papa,  you  are  behind  the 
age.  Fashion,  mit  einJialliger  stimme,  declares  it 
outre  to  confine  one's  self  to  une  langue.  Tons  les 
langucs  would  rise  up  tout  en  dehors  against  such  a 
fiat.  You  would  say,  papa,  e  paszia  U  voter  sapcr 
tutto.  Better  say  as  they  do  in  Spain,  that  mas  vale 
saber  que  haber.  But  scd  Juec  hactimus,  I  am  quite 
certain  that  to  Kalon — " 

"  Hold,  my  dear,  enough !  I  surrender.  Six 
languages  are  sufficiently  convincing.  Spare  me 
the  seventh.  Spare  me  the  Greek!"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Vaughan,  laughing  more  heartily  than  I  had  ever 
before  heard  him.  "  When  did  you  study  Greek, 
my  dear  ?  I  was  not  aware  that  Dr.  Agaric  had 
taught  you  Greek  with — " 

"  He  tried  to,  papa,  but  I  was  contumacious.  He 
tried  also  to  make  me  think  I  wished  to  study 
Chaldaic,  but  that  I  declined  even  more  resolutely." 

"  I  should  think  so,  my  dear,"  returned  Mr. 
Vaughan. 

"  Dr.  Agaric  was  a  perfect  charnel-house  o/  dead 
languages,  you  know,  papa,  and  was  heart-broken 
because  I  preferred  the  light  modern  languages. 
Cecil  would  have  made  him  perfectly  happy.  She 
knows  all  the  European  and  Asiatic  tongues  and — " 

"  Only  a  smattering  of  them,  my  dear  Brinka — 
only  sufficient  to  be  my  father's  interpreter  on 
occasion,"  returned  Cecil,  with  a  smile  and  her  inev- 
itable blush.  She  was  so  pretty  when  she  spoke, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


349 


and  was  so  quiet  and  refined  and  had  such  good 
manners,  that  Mr.  Vaughan,  I  observed,  was  very 
evidently  more  and  more  attracted  to  her. 

He  asked  her  some  questions  concerning  her 
Asiatic  experiences,  and  she  answered  so  sensibly 
that  I  soon  found  all  present  were  listening  to  her 
descriptions. 

Hildreth,  recovered  from  his  silent  fit,  made  some 
happy  conversational  hits  that  caused  us  all  to 
laugh,  they  so  aptly  accented  some  of  Cecil's 
Eastern  anecdotes.  That  was  the  beginning  of  a 
polite  armed  neutrality  between  him  and  Mr. 
Vaughan  that  no  one  save  myself  seemed  to 
observe. 

After  dinner,  as  it  had  commenced  raining,  we 
stayed  within  doors,  and  had  an  evening  of  music 
instead  of  taking  a  moonlight  sail.  Hildreth,  whose 
musical  memory  was  inexhaustible,  played  snatches 
for  us  from  Bach's  D  Minor  Concerto,  from  Mozart's 
"  Clemenza  di  Tito,"  and  then  Beethoven's  Pathet- 
ique,  which  so  many  play  at,  but  so  few  master. 
He  next  gave  us  a  fantasia  of  Moscheles  and  the 
Plongroise  of  Thalberg,  that  pupil  of  Moscheles,  who 
eclipsed  his  master.  He  also  gave  us  some  lovely, 
pathetic  things  of  the  melancholy  Count  Oginski's, 
and  then  a  complete  change,  in  selections  from  a 
popular  modern  English  composer,  severely  correct 
grammatically,  but  utterly  uninteresting  musically. 

My  latest  concerto  being  demanded,  I  took  the 
piano,  the  Professor  the  violin,  and  Hildreth  the 
cello.  We  had  played  it  in  that  way  a  number  of 


350 


BRINKA  : 


times,  and  it  went  very  smoothly;  and  although 
Blythe,  who  had  never  heard  it,  expressed  himself 
as  delighted  with  it,  and  Mr.  Vaughan,  who  had 
never  heard  it,  said,  "  Charming,  indeed,"  I  could 
see  how  thin  and  meagre  it  was  in  comparison  to 
the  great  masters  I  desired  to  emulate. 

We  went  through  from  the  beginning  to  the  end 
with  the  incomparably  melodious  "  Creation,"  of 
Haydn,  who  knew  so  well  the  value  of  discords,  but 
who  treated  them  so  cleverly,  and  had  such  a  deli- 
cate ear,  he  could  not  make  them  harsh  and  disa- 
greeable, as  do  so  many  of  our  less  divinely  gifted 
musicians. 

The  Countess  Brinka  sang  the  soprano  parts ; 
and  "  With  Verdure  Clad,"  so  difficult  of  execution, 
so  overflowing  with  joyousness  of  spirit,  was 
never  sung  with  more  delicacy  or  with  more  ease 
and  power.  The  tenor  and  bass  solos  and  choruses 
were  supplied  by  the  Professor's  violin  and  Roy's 
cello,  Cecil's  harp  assisting  my  piano  accompani- 
ments. We  had  a  delightful  evening,  for  we  all 
loved  music,  and  knew  how  to  appreciate  good 
music. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


351 


XXXIV. 

"  YOU'VE    ONLY  TO   SAVE    HER    LIFE,    CARYL." 

"\7'OU'VE  only  to  save  her  life,  Caryl,  and  it's 
JL  sutten  to  be.  You'll  have  a  good  chance 
goin'  to  California  ;  for  somethin'  '11  be  sure  to  hap- 
pen •  it  always  doos ;  it's  the  course  of  human 
events."  Mrs.  Blythe  uttered  this  in  a  tone  of 
mysterious  conviction,  as  she  looked  up  from  the 
silk  gown  she  was  folding.  Blythe  had  stepped 
out  the  moment  before,  and  her  maid,  visible  in  the 
room  adjoining,  packing  wearing  apparel  in  a  trunk, 
was  out  of  hearing  distance.  I  could  see  Cecil  and 
Roy  in  a  rustic  arbor  under  one  of  the  great  elms, 
with  harp  and  cello,  now  discoursing  in  delightful 
music  and  now  laughing  and  talking,  making  of 
themselves  a  charming  picture,  framed  in  by  clus- 
tering vines. 

I  alone  was  out  of  sorts,  and  Mrs.  Blythe  had 
sympathetically  divined  the  cause,  which  lay  in  six 
feet  of  young  Englishman.  Glencairn,  the  young 
Earl  of  Baysfield,  had  dropped  down  from  the  skies, 
alighting  in  our  midst,  at  Professor  Wye's  invita- 
tion, "  the  invitation  suggested  by  the  Duke  of 
Chillingford,  you  know,"  he  informed  us  in  his 
round,  hearty  voice.  He  further  said  that  he  had 


352 


BRINKA  : 


received  the  Duke's  telegram,  and  had  flown  down 
from  Canada  at  an  hour's  notice,  eager  to  make  the 
tour  of  California  with  our  party.  He  was  then  out 
driving  with  the  Duke  and  the  Countess  Brinka, 
and  that  was  why  I  was  disquieted. 

He  had  developed  into  a  well-built  fellow — the 
typical  Englishman — tall,  fair,  square-shouldered, 
and  soldierly  looking.  He  was  profuse  in  his 
recollections  of  his  school-boy  days  at  Elm  Ridge, 
declaring,  in  his  cool,  English  way,  that  it  was  no 
end  of  a  jolly  time  he  had  in  those  days,  and  that 
he  owed  everything  to  Professor  Wye.  He  Was  a 
great  sportsman,  and  came  with  his  gun  and  dogs, 
his  fishing-rods  and  flies,  his  two  grooms,  and  his 
fine,  full-blooded  horses.  He  had  all  the  vocabu- 
lary of  the  field  and  brook,  and  talked  of  the  game 
he  had  bagged  and  his  great  catches  of  salmon  and 
brook-trout,  being  generally  "  high  hook."  He 
called  ramrods  wamwods,  and  trout  tivont,  and  said 
pawaps  for  perhaps,  looking  at  you  through  a  one- 
eyed  glass,  which  he  adjusted  on  occasion  to  his  right 
eye  with  great  skill.  Altogether,  he  was  what  he 
would  have  called  any  one  resembling  himself, 
"awfully  swell." 

"You've  only  to  save  her  life,  Caryl,"  recom- 
menced Mrs.  Blythe,  "and  it's  sutten  to  be.  Her 
father'll  let  you  have  her  then.  It  always  begins 
with  savin'  of  her  life.  It's  so  in  all  the  story-books. 
I've  read  lots  of  them,  and  the  boys  have  read  lots 
of  them  aloud  to  me,  you  amongst  the  rest — 
Captain  Marrowfat's  stories  and  Great  Scott's  and 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


353 


Mrs. .  I've  forgot  the  names  that  wrote  them  all. 

And  it's  so  out  of  the  story-books.  My  boy 
Owen's  father  saved  my  life,  and  Dannel  Larned 
saved — well,  no,  Dannel  didn't  save  Sister  Sue's 
life,  for  he  come  nigh  killin'  on  her  when  he  would 
drive  the  skittish  colt  that  run  away  and  throwed 
her  out  of  the  buggy.  She  didn't  speak  for  two 
hull  days  and  was  laid  up  for  a  month.  But  it's  all 
one.  The  principle's  the  same,  for  when  she  got 
well  she  up  and  married  him." 

Mrs.  Blythe  had  not  named  Brinka,  but  well 
aware  whom  she  meant,  I  assured  her  I  would  do 
my  best  to  save  her  life  should  occasion  offer.  Her 
reply  to  this  was,  as  she  folded  another  lustrous 
gown :  "  Dear  me,  it's  so  hard  to  tell  what  to  take 
with  one  and  what  not  to  take.  Here  comes 
Owen ;  he'll  know.  All  I  care  for  now  is  to  do 
credit  to  him  and  wear  the  gownds  and  caps  he 
likes  best." 

We  started  late  in  the  afternoon  for  New  York  in 
Blythe's  commodious  yacht,  our  party  numbering 
eleven,  not  including  the  waiting-maids  and  wait- 
ing-men belonging  to  various  members  of  our  com- 
pany. The  morning  was  clear  and  shining  as  we 
lay  off  at  anchor  in  the  river  opposite  New  York, 
preparing  to  go  ashore  in  the  small  boats  to  the 
Pennsylvania  Railway  station  at  Jersey  City.  Every 
object  in  sight  was  distinct  and  clean-cut,  the  shad- 
ows lying  as  crisply  articulated  as  though  the  sun 
were  a  huge  electrical  light  of  Edison's  best  make, 
instead  of  the  simple  ball  of  fire  it  undoubtedly  is. 


354  BRINK  A: 

Bergen  Heights  stood  up  before  us  to  the  right,  the 
great  teeming,  steaming  city  to  the  left,  and  down 
the  harbor  the  distant  shore  of  Staten  Island  loomed 
up  a  greenish  film,  while  the  long  line  of  steam- 
colored  clouds  back  of  it  showed  like  vast  moun- 
tains in  the  far  distance. 

Miles  Mather,  who  had  be?n  with  us  all  over  the 
Eastern  Hemisphere,  and  Mr.  Vaughan's  man, 
Roberts,  arranged  everything  for  us,  chartering  ex- 
clusive parlor  and  sleeping  and  dining  cars,  and  we 
traveled  commodiously.  Marco,  now  fifteen  years 
old,  and  quite  good  for  another  ten  or  fifteen  years, 
passed  his  time  for  the  most  part  in  looking  from  car 
windows  or  lying  on  the  rugs  at  my  feet  or  in  ex- 
changing civilities  with  the  pair  of  fine  setters 
belonging  to  the  Earl  of  Baysfield,  that  were  in  the 
car  with  us,  making  friends  with  every  one,  when 
not  in  the  adjoining  car  with  Glencairn's  grooms. 

Blythe  had  insisted  that  his  mother  should  take 
her  maid ;  and  she  showed  herself  fully  equal  to 
the  emergency,  with  the  same  chubby  dignity  she 
had  manifested  in  managing  the  servants  at  Elm 
Ridge,  before  she  became  possessed  of  the  vaunted 
millions. 

After  a  week's  journey  in  a  steadily  pouring  rain 
("  unprecedented  in  the  annals  of  travel,  at  this 
season,  sah,"  the  well-informed  colored  porter  of 
our  parlor  car  said) — a  rain  that  to  all  appearance 
extended  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  globe,  re- 
minding one  of  the  flood — we  found  ourselves  in  the 
city  built  on  an  hundred  hills,  the  city  of  high 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  355 

winds,  copper-faced  Celestials,  palatial  residences, 
vast  wealth,  and  cable  cars,  which  last  are  said  to  be 
the  finest  in  the  world.  What  we  saw  of  the  mag- 
nificent scenery  over  which  the  whole  world  raves, 
as  we  were  rushed  on  through  deep  canons  and  up 
ascending  grades  to  elevations  from  eight  to  ten 
thousand  feet  and  more,  was  viewed  through  drip- 
ping moisture ;  and  what  we  saw  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  many  towns  and  cities  through  which  we 
passed  were  nondescript  figures,  for  the  most  part 
clad  in  water-proof  garments,  looking  dismally  out 
from  under  dripping  umbrellas. 

The  next  morning  we  drove  through  the  streets 
of  San  Francisco,  in  the  brightest  sunshine.  From 
its  hundred  hills  we  viewed  its  fine  buildings  and 
the  panoramic  sights  of  ocean,  bay,  and  mountain, 
I  having  the  supreme  delight  of  sitting  beside  Brinka, 
the  Lady  Griselda  being  on  the  front  seat  of  the 
surrey  with  the  Earl  of  Baysfield,  who  drove  the 
horses.  It  was  Baysfield's  arrangement,  he  thereby 
commanding  my  eternal  gratitude,  especially  as  he 
was  unusually  civil  to  the  Lady  Griselda,  rehearsing 
for  her  benefit  the  names  of  the  public  buildings,  or 
calling  her  attention  to  the  grand  view  of  valley  and 
encircling  mountain,  the  snow-capped  summits  of 
the  Sierra  Nevada  range,  gray  and  ghostly  in  the 
far  distance,  being  discernable  from  the  highest 
hills. 

Brinka  accepted  the  transfer  of  Glencairn's  de- 
voted attentions  from  herself  to  the  grim  Lady 
Griselda  very  gracefully,  I  thought,  she  seeming 


BRINKA: 

almost  as  well  pleased  as  I  was,  for  I  had  seldom 
seen  her  face  so  full  of  sweet  content  as  she  looked 
at  me  with  large,  happy  eyes,  answering  my  com- 
ments and  accenting  her  speech  with  an  airy, 
silvery  laugh,  if  the  most  musical  laugh  in  the 
world  may  be  called  silvery. 

The  Duke  of  Chillingford  had  ordered  a  phaeton 
and  had  singled  out  my  sister  Cecil,  inviting  her  to 
accompany  him,  he  driving  the  span  of  horses  with  his 
own  aristocratic  hands.  Whilst  Hildreth,  looking 
discontentedly  determined  to  forestall  him  on  the 
next  occasion,  went  in  the  carriage  with  Professor 
Wye  and  Blythe  and  his  mother,  Mrs.  Repsneider 
preferring  to  remain  in  her  own  apartment  at  the 
hotel,  needing  rest  she  said. 

It  was  only  the  next  day  that  we  all  took  a  long 
drive  to  Wild  Cat  Canon,  Miles  and  Roberts,  with 
Blythe's  man,  serving  us  luncheon  in  one  of  the 
most  picturesque  spots  conceivable.  Roy,  by  adroit 
management,  secured  Professor  Wye  and  Mrs. 
Repsneider  with  Cecil  for  the  surrey,  sitting  beside 
Cecil  on  the  front  seat.  The  Duke,  manifestly  cha- 
grined, but  more  elaborately  polite  than  even  his 
wont,  went  in  the  carriage  with  the  Lady  Griselda 
and  Brinka,  impressing  the  Earl  of  Baysfield  for  the 
fourth  seat.  I  went  on  horseback,  riding  much  of 
the  way  beside  the  carriage  near  Brinka,  and,  ex- 
erting myself  especially,  made  myself  so  entertaining 
that  Baysfield's  responsive  laughter  was  echoed  by 
the  hills,  and  even  the  Duke  paid  tribute  with  an 
occasional  cool  laugh. 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS. 

In  the  evening,  after  some  music  (Miles  Mather 
had  caused  a  fine  piano  to  be  placed  in  our  parlor), 
we  discussed  our  plans  for  future  sight-seeing,  Roy 
distinguishing  himself  by  several  brilliant  puns. 

"  Suppose  we  drive  to  Golden  Gate  Park  to- 
morrow morning,"  said  Brinka,  who  was  diligently 
studying  a  guide-book,  "and  view  the  mountain 
surroundings  and  the  Golden  Gate  and  the  Pacific 
Ocean  and — " 

"  I  think,  my  dear,  we  can  find  other  points  more 
interesting  to  visit  that  command  all  this  and  more," 
objected  Mr.  Vaughan.  "  One  park  is  so  much  like 
all  other  parks  that  it  would  seem  almost  a  waste  of 
time — " 

"  Hear  me  out,  papa,  if  you  please.  I  was  going 
to  add,  and  take  a  yacht  sail  on  the  beautiful,  calm 
Pacific,  dining  on  board  the  yacht." 

"  Very  pleasant,  my  dear,"  assented  Mr. Vaughan. 

"  It  will  be  no  end  of  a  lark,"  exclaimed  Bays- 
field.  "  The  dinner  on  board  I  mean.  The  views 
from  the  various  points  are  magnificent.  You  see 
Angel  Islands  and  Goat  Island,  and  the  fortified 
and  garrisoned  island  of  Alcatraz,  and  the  pic- 
turesque villages  across  the  bay,  and  in  the  distance 
the  snow-covered  summits  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas." 

"  We  saw  very  little  of  California  when  we  were 
here  before,  I  must  admit,"  said  Mr.  Vaughan.  "  It 
was  in  the  winter,  and  we  remained  almost  exclu- 
sively at  Los  Angeles  for  the  salubrious  climate." 

No  further  objections  being  made,  we  carried  out 
Brinka's  suggestion,  finding  ourselves,  after  a  drive 


358 


BRINKA  : 


in  the  Park,  on  board  of  the  fine  yacht  that  was 
hired  for  the  occasion.  And  Miles  Mather  and 
Roberts,  with  the  help  of  the  maids  and  men,  and 
a  celebrated  cook,  who  was  employed  for  the  occa- 
sion, had  sufficient  to  do  in  preparing  dinner,  mak- 
ing all  ready  for  the  more  fortunate  ones  who  had 
nothing  to  do  but  to  enjoy. 

Mrs.  Blythe,  in  the  most  suitable  possible  gown, 
and  looking  elegantly  neat  and  trim  and  round  and 
rosy,  seemed,  I  thought,  on  the  possible  lookout 
for  the  yacht  to  capsize,  giving  me  the  coveted  op- 
portunity of  saving  the  Countess  Brinka's  life.  But 
she  said  nothing  more  on  the  subject,  and,  in  fact, 
said  little  or  nothing  on  any  subject,  but  was  very 
watchful  and  observant,  drinking  in  with  her  round, 
blue,  baby-like  eyes  all  the  new  wonders  of  the  new 
and  wonderful  country.  Her  son  devoted  himself 
to  her  and  pointed  out  and  explained  everything, 
and  both  seemed  content  in  each  other  and  enviably 
happy. 

It  was  in  the  early  dusk,  and  we  were  on  our 
return.  Cecil  and  Mr.  Vaughan  were  walking  up 
and  down  the  deck  together.  He  had  offered  her 
his  arm  to  steady  her  steps,  and  she  had  taken  it. 

"  Do  you  think  she — do  you  think  your  sister 
Cecil  would  ever  be  likely  to  be  carried  away  by — by 
a  ducal  crown  ?"  asked  Roy,  in  my  ear. 

"The  Duke  of  Chillingford's  is  a  grand  old  title," 
I  replied,  maliciously. 

"  He  is  nearly  as  old  as  his  title — old  enough  to 
be  her  father !"  exclaimed  Roy,  with  bitterness. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


359 


"He  is  a  very  handsome  man,"  I  returned,  "very 
stylish,  vQTcycomme  ilfaut.  He  carries  his  age  well. 
He  is  only  twenty-five  years  older  than  Cecil.  Such 
matches  are  very  common,  especially  abroad." 

"  But  we're  not  abroad,  and  it's — monstrous.  And 
you  approve,  Caryl  ?" 

Roy  spoke  in  an  et  tu,  Brute  tone  of  reproach. 

"On  the  contrary,  I  don't  approve,"  I  said;  "and 
I  do  not  think  my  sister  is  a  girl  to  be  carried  away, 
as  you  put  it,  by  any  merely  factitious  advantage ; 
she  is  a  girl  of  too  much  good  sense." 

"  If  she  wants  money,  I  have  plenty  of  that 
commodity,"  said  Roy,  with  a  sort  of  whimsical 
desperateness.  "  I  am  not  a  duke,  but  I  am  of  an  old 
family  with  plenty  of  blue  blood  in  my  veins — and — 
I  would  shed  it  all  for  one  smile  from  her." 

"  What  good  would  the  smile  do  you  after  you 
had  lost  all  the  blood  in  your  veins,  whatever  its 
color  might  be  ?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  her  smile  would  bring  me  back  to  life 
and  fill  my  veins  with  ichor,  the  blood  of  the  gods ! 
And  then  I  would  be  immortal,  and  she  would  have 
to  love  me  and  accept  me." 

"  You  are  the  absurdest  fellow  in  the  world,  Roy, 
as  I  have  said  a  thousand  times  before.  But  per- 
severe ;  faint  heart  never  won  and  that.  Besides,  I 
think  Cecil  has  formed  a  favorable  impression  of 
you.  She  is  not  a  girl  to  come  to  a  conclusion  in 
a  day." 

"  Go  on,  what  more  ?  I  can  see  that.  But  she 
may  conclude  on  the  wrong  one,  so  what  care  I 


360 


BRIXK'A  : 


how  slow  she  be  if  she  be  not  slow  for  me,"  and 
Roy  gave  a  careless  laugh. 

"  From  a  conversation  I  recently  had  with  her," 
I  returned,  "  I  am  certain  she  has  no  prior  prefer- 
ences. She  has  had  no  flirtations,  no  '  experi- 
ences '  that  so  many  of  our  modern  young  ladies 
feel  justified  in  encouraging." 

"  I  can  well  understand  that,"  exclaimed  Roy, 
rapturously,  still  in  an  undertone  (we  were  standing 
by  the  prow  apart  from  the  rest),  "  with  her  clear, 
pure  eyes  and  her  quiet  manner,  she's  not  a  girl  to 
flirt.  She's  an  angel,  a  saint — Saint  Cecelia,  as  I 
have  said  to  you — as  I  am  always  saying  to  myself. 
I  hate  a  girl  who  is  forever  falling  in  love  with 
every  new  face." 

"  It  is  natural  to  like  our  opposites,"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  none  of  your  jibes  !  Put  a  button  on  your 
foil,  I  am  not  the  one  in  question.  It  is  the  first 
time  I  have  ever  loved,  really  loved." 

"  I  believe  it  is,  Roy,  and  I  am  doing  all  I  can, 
shall  do  all  I  can,  to  help  you.  I  am  blowing  your 
trumpet  to  Cecil — " 

"  Oh,  I  say,  don't  blow  too  hard  ;  don't  let  her 
suspect  that  you  are  blowing  for  a  purpose." 

"  Never  fear,  Roy,  she  shall  not  suspect." 

"  By  the  way,  Caryl,  have  you  observed  what  a 
very  politely  scheming  party  we  are,  with  our  plans 
and  counter-plans?  There  is  the  most  charming 
entente  cordiale  between  us,  while  some  of  us  are 
wishing  each  other,  in  plain  French,  an  diablc.  I 
am  scheming  to  be  with  your  lovely  sister,  and 


AN  AMERICAN  CO  UNTESS.  36  r 

uttering  maledictions,  sotto  voce,  against  those  who 
monopolize  her,  keeping  her  from  me.  There, 
the  Duke  of  Chillingford  has  offered  her  a  seat,  and 
is  sitting  down  himself!  But  to  proceed.  You  are 
trying  your  level  best  to  secure  interviews  with 
the  Duke's  charming  daughter,  and  are  constantly 
checkmated,  as  at  present,  by  the  Earl.  Glencairn 
is  a  fine  enough  fellow  in  his  way,  but  he'll  never 
succeed  in  that  quarter.  But  our  greatest  con- 
spirator is  the  Duke  himself.  He  conspires  against 
us  all,  though  so  courteously  that  we  ought  to  con- 
sider ourselves  honored.  Do  you  know  what  Pro- 
fessor Wye  said  the  other  day  ?" 

"  I  shall  know  when  you  tell  me,  Roy,"  I  replied. 

"  That  on  the  day  you  married  he  intended  set- 
tling on  you  two  hundred  thousand  dollars.  The 
Professor  has  enough.  He  only  took  the  boys,  you 
know,  to  prevent  himself  from  dwelling  on  some 
bitter  disappointment.  I  never  knew  just  wh?t." 

"  Some  day,  the  first  chance  we  have,  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  it,  Roy,"  I  answered. 

"  The  Professor  cannot  conceive  of  the  Ducal 
schemes,  that — " 

"  The  Professor  conceives  of  more  than  you 
suspect,"  I  affirmed. 

"  That  his  daughter  must  command  great  wealth, 
Blythe's  millions,  for  instance,  or  Glencairn's  rank 
with  fewer  millions.  But  the  Countess  Brinka  will 
disappoint  them  all.  She  will  marry  you  with  your 
two  hundred  and  odd  thousand  and  the  prospect  of 
a  few  more  hundred  thousand.  But  there  will  be  a 


362  BKIXA'A  : 

struggle  for  it ;  the  Duke  will  surrender  at  discretion 
only.  I  am  wizard  enough  to  see  that." 

"  You  are  a  very  comforting  wizard,  Roy,  and  I 
need  all  the  consolation  you  can  give  me.  There, 
I  have  been  watching  for  that!"  and  I  rose  from  my 
seat. 

"  I  see.  Glencairn  quits  his  post  and  leaves  the 
field  to  you.  Why  ?  I  would  ask,"  speculated  Roy. 

"  The  Lady  Griselda's  smile  may  have  frozen  him 
off;  or — I  have  seen — he  has  done  the  same  thing 
once  before,  it  may  be — "  I  did  not  wait  to  con- 
clude my  sentence,  but  hastened  over  to  Brinka, 
touching  my  hat  to  Glencairn  as  I  passed  him. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


363 


XXXV. 

THE    LADY    GRISELDA    SLEEPS. 

THE  Countess  Brinka  greeted  me  with  a  smile, 
and  the  Lady  Griselda  greeted  me  with  a  smile ; 
the  smile  of  the  one  set  every  pulse  within  me  to 
throbbing  wildly,  and  that  of  the  other  I  scarcely 
saw,  but  settled  myself  in  the  seat  the  Earl  of  Bays- 
field  had  just  vacated.  Brinka  talked  and  I  listened, 
and  I  talked  and  she  listened,  the  Lady  Griselda 
smiling  on. 

"  If  I  were  a  painter,"  said  Brinka,  in  response  to 
something  I  had  been  telling  of  a  storm  at  sea,  "  I 
would  paint  rocky,  barren  coasts,  with  the  endless 
expanse  of  ocean  beyond.  I  always  feel  more  drawn 
toward  the  wild  and  desolate  than  the  lofty  and  pic- 
turesque. A  low,  wild  coast,  where  the  gulls  and 
tern  are  flying  and  the  heron  are  stalking  about, 
appeals  strongly  to  me  ;  and  if  I  could  get  in  a 
wreck,  all  the  better.  That  wreck  of  Horace  Ver- 
net's  was  always  a  fascination  to  me,  although  the 
picture  cleaners  have  done  all  they  could  to  spoil  it." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "  his  sea  is  real  water,  and  not 
broken  green  glass  bottles,  and  his  white  caps  are 
genuine  foam." 

"And  not  whipped  syllabub,"  Brinka  returned, 


364  BRINKA  : 

with  a  laugh — "  though  to  paint  green  glass  and 
syllabub  well  requires  study  and  talent.  I  attempted 
to  paint  the  sea  once,  and  I  could  not  get  even  green 
glass." 

"  You  do  not  need  to  paint,  Miss  Vaughan,  you 
can  sing." 

"  I  should  like  to  do  everything,  but  art  is  long, 
very  long,  and  time  is  short,  at  least  my  time  is. 
But  if  I  could  only  paint  a  sea-scene  like  Hamilton, 
or  Turner,  or  many  of  our  less  celebrated  painters, 
I  should  be  happy." 

"  Then  I  infer  you  are  not  happy,  Miss  Vaughan. 
I  wonder  at  that ;  you  always  seem  very  happy." 

"Are  you  happy,  Mr.  Wye?"  asked  Brinka,  tak- 
ing up  my  words,  with  a  low  laugh. 

"At  times — just  now  I  am  supremely  so,"  I  re- 
turned, in  an  under  voice.  I  glanced  at  the  Lady 
Griselda.  She  was  looking  very  intently  at  her 
kinsman,  and  had  not  heard  my  speech.  Mr. Vaughan 
was  still  talking  with  much  animation  to  my  sister 
Cecil,  and  was  looking  very  handsome  in  spite  of  his 
forty-five  years.  My  eyes,  returning  to  Brinka's 
face,  met  her  eyes.  They  were  full  of  a  wistful 
look  that  went  to  my  heart. 

"Which  do  you  think  the  greater  art,  Mr.  Wye, 
music  or  painting?"  she  inquired,  abruptly.  The 
Lady  Griselda,  having  returned  from  her  inspection 
of  Mr.  Vaughan  and  Cecil,  had  impaled  me  with  a 
dull,  questioning  glare. 

"One  has  only  to  go  through  the  various  insti- 
tutions for  the  blind  and  deaf  and  dumb  to  solve 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  365 

that  question.  The  blind  are  gentle  and  patient 
and  apt  to  be  very  intelligent,  being  frequently  mu- 
sicians and  poets  and  writers;  the  deaf  and  dumb 
are  more  apt  to  be  violent  in  temper  and  intellectu- 
ally and  aesthetically,  in  average  cases,  the  reverse 
of  the  blind.  What  we  hear  profits  us  more  than 
what  we  see."  The  Lady  Griselda's  smile  acqui- 
esced to  my  reply,  but  she  said  nothing. 

"Yes,  I  had  rather  sing  than  paint,  though  it 
would  be  dreadful  to  give  up  seeing  beautiful  things. 
On  the  whole,  I  prefer  to  have  both  eyes  and  ears — 
and  tongue." 

"And  in  default  of  the  sea,  to  accept  the  forest, 
and  listen  to  the  wood  robin's  note  (though,  orni- 
thologically  speaking,  we  should  say  thrush,  I  be- 
lieve), and  accept  the  fragrant,  green-shaded,  flower- 
bordered  trout  brooks,  with  their  little  speckled 
treasures,  that  at  times  snap  at  the  wrong  fly,  and 
become  a  victim  to  the  cupidity  of  the  giant  behind 
the  rod." 

"In  all  my  trout-fishing,  Mr.  Wye — and  I  have 
been  much  with  papa  (and  then  I  love  the  wild, 
green  spots  and  the  rocks  even  better  than  the  sea) 
— I  am  divided  by  two  antagonistic  emotions  :  an  in- 
tense pity  for  the  poor  little  victim,  and  I  often  put  it 
back  into  its  native  element — the  baby  trout  always — 
and  the  other  is  an  intense  desire  to  swell  the  number 
in  my  creel  and  get  a  bigger  catch  than  papa." 

Just  then  a  deep,  short  inspiration,  a  very  audible 
breathing  out,  drew  my  attention  to  Marco ;  but, 
with  his  nose  resting  on  my  knee,  he  was  as  wide 


366  BRINKA : 

awake  as  a  dog  could  be,  his  solemn  brown  eyes 
intently  regarding  me,  seemingly  listening  to  our 
conversation. 

Lulled  by  the  hum  of  many  voices  and  the 
rhythmical  surging  of  the  water  against  the  prow 
of  our  yacht,  the  Lady  Griselda,  her  head  supported 
by  the  back  of  her  comfortable  steamer  chair,  was 
sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just. 

"  You  are  very  intense  in  all  things,  Miss 
Vaughan,"  I  affirmed,  looking  from  the  blank 
mask  of  the  sleeping  lady  to  the  bright,  living, 
sympathetic  face  of  her  I  loved  so  well.  "  Your 
voice,  the  way  you  sing,  shows  that." 

"  The  way  I  sing,  Mr.  Wye  ?  I  have  often  wished 
to  know  just  what  that  way  is.  I  know  how  others 
sing — Patti,  for  instance.  Patti  has  the  only  really 
satisfying  voice  I  ever  heard.  I  can  understand  how 
Gerster  takes  those  wonderful  high  notes  of  hers — 
fine,  clear,  penetrating,  like  the  purest  notes  of  the 
most  perfect  Stradivarius — always  with  an  almost 
imperceptible  but  certain  glottis-stroke.  I  can  pick 
out  merits  and  many  defects  in  the  various  voices  I 
hear,  but  I  know  nothing  of  my  own  voice.  I  can 
tell,  of  course,  if  I  take  pure  tones,  for  I  have  stud- 
ied carefully.  But  I  love  so  well  to  sing,  and  what 
I  sing,  that  I  am  carried  away  from  myself  and  can- 
not stop  to  listen.  I  do  not  think  any  one  fully 
realizes  one's  self.  I  wish  I  could  know  myself — 
just  what  I  am,  just  how  I  sing,  just  what  my  mo- 
tives are  for  all  I  do.  Does  any  one  know  him  or 
herself?" 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  367 

"  I  think  so,  Miss  Vaughan.  But  it  would  not 
do  for  every  one,  you,  for  instance,  to  know  her  own 
excellences." 

"  Why  should  I  be  exempt  ?  Explain,  Mr.  Wye ; 
you  puzzle  me." 

"When  you  sing,  for  example,  you  take  one's 
breath  away — you  do  mine,  at  least — and  if  you 
were  to  hear  just  how  well  you  sing,  don't  you  see, 
you  would  take  your  own  breath  away,  and,  con- 
sequently, would  have  to  stop  singing." 

"  For  lack  of  breath,"  returned  Brinka,  smiling. 
"  But  hyperbole,  Mr.  Wye,  is  not  what  I  have  a 
right  to  expect  from  you.  I  ask  you  for  a  truthful 
answer,  and  you  give  me  a  pretty  compliment. 
Papa  flatters  me  about  my  voice — about  everything, 
in  fact ;  but  I  am  used  to  his  flattery.  Every  one 
else — more  or  less — does  the  same.  You  alone, 
Mr.  Wye — till  now — have  never  made  compli- 
mentary speeches  to  me." 

"  Nor  ever  shall,  Miss  Vaughan.  If  I  tell  you 
how  much  your  singing  moves  me,  if  I  tell  you 
that  you  are  to  me  the  one  beautiful,  the  one  per- 
fect being  the  world  contains,  I  speak  only  the 
truth.  If  I  have  not  said  this  before,  it  is  because 
I  have  not  trusted  myself,  for — for  fear  of  saying 
too  much.  The  wildest  speech  I  could  make  in 
your  praise,  telling  how  dear,  how  unutterably  dear, 
you  are  to  me,  would  be  the  simplest  truth.  I  loved 
you  when  you  were  a  little  girl,  when  I  could  call 
you  Brinka.  I  have  always  loved  you.  I  love  you 
devotedly,  desperately.  Every  pulse  of  my  being 


368  BRINKA  : 

beats  for  you  alone ;  I  would  die  for  you.  This  is 
no  hyperbole — only  the  truth — the  truest  truth. 
Tell  me,  Brinka — "  I  suddenly  checked  myself. 
There  was  a  strange  light  in  her  dark  eyes ;  the 
glory  of  a  great  joy  bloomed  on  her  countenance, 
irradiating  her  beautiful  features.  "  Tell  me,  Brinka, 
dare  I  hope  to  live  for  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  Caryl,  you  know — you  know  it  all !  Do 
not  make  me  tell  you,"  she  replied,  in  a.  voice 
scarcely  above  a  whisper,  laying  her  hand  softly  on 
my  arm  and  as  quickly  removing  it.  There  was  a 
mute  appeal  in  the  very  quiet  of  her  gesture.  The 
swift  pressure  of  her  slender  fingers  thrilled  me  to 
the  quick.  I  looked  into  her  glorious  eyes,  full 
of  a  tender  light,  and  said :  "  As  you  will,  when 
you  will.  It  is  sufficient  for  the  present  to  know 
you  love  me." 

"  It  will  be  made  very  hard  for  us,  Caryl.  My 
father  will  never  give  his  consent." 

My  heart  gave  a  great  throb.  The  "  Caryl " 
came  so  naturally  and  simply.  And  in  her  tone 
was  an  unsteadiness,  a  quivering  bf  breath,  as 
though  her  whole  heart  were  in  her  voice,  choking 
its  utterance. 

"  Do  not  predict  unhappiness  for  us.  Your  father 
doubtless  desires  you  to  marry  the  Earl  of  Baysfield. 
In  fact,  he  has  told  me  so.  But  your  father  has  al- 
ways yielded  to  your  wishes.  He  will  make  no 
serious  objection  to — " 

"Yes,  Caryl,"  said  Brinka.  "My  father  has  al- 
ways given  up  to  me,  but  in  this,  where  my  happi- 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

ness  for  life  is  concerned,  he  has,  at  various  times, 
caused  me  to  understand  that  I  must  yield  to  his 
choice.  Only  this  morning,  when  I  told  him,  in 
reply  to  a  hint  of  the  same  sort,  that  he  meant  to  say 
he  would  yield,  like  a  dutiful  father,  to  my  choice, 
should  I  ever  choose,  he  grew  cold  and  stern — 
as  I  have  seen  him  look  once  or  twice  when 
reprimanding  a  refractory  employee — and  told 
me,  with  white  lips,  that  he  would  rather  see  me 
dead  than  married  to  any  one  who  could  not  bring 
me  wealth  and  a  title  as  great  as  his  own.  It  was  a 
cruel  speech — the  first  unkind  speech  he  ever  made 
me." 

"  Don't  look  distressed,  my  darling.  I  have 
neither  a  title  nor  vast  wealth,  but  I  shall  have  suf- 
ficient for  us  both ;  and  if  you  will  accept  me — " 

"  I  have  always  accepted  you,  Caryl ;  I  have 
grown  up  accepting  you.  I  proposed  to  you  when 
I  was  not  quite  eight  years  old  and  you  were  not 
quite  nine ;  do  you  remember  it,  Caryl  ?"  asked 
Brinka,  laughing  through  the  tears  that  had  gath- 
ered in  her  eyes. 

"As  well  as  if  it  were  only  yesterday,"  I  returned ; 
"and  you  still  wear  my  ring.  That  has  always 
given  me  hope." 

"Oh!  I  shall  always  wear  it,"  Brinka  returned, 
drawing  off  the  dainty  glove  from  her  left  hand 
and  contemplating  the  ring.  "  Papa  laughs  at  me, 
but  I  wear  it,  all  the  same.  Somehow  my  fingers 
have  grown  in  length  only." 

"And  not  much  in  length,"  said  I,  regarding  the 


370 


BRIXKA  : 


sapphire  blazing  from  the  third  finger  of  the  tiniest 
hand  in  the  world. 

"It  has  never  been  off  from  my  finger,  Caryl, 
since  you  put  it  there.  It  was  our  engagement- 
ring,  you  know;"  and  Brinka  laughed  softly  again. 
"  I  have  never  cared  for  other  rings,  but  wear  them 
on  my  other  hand  to  please  papa." 

I  longed  to  take  the  hand,  ring  and  all,  in  mine  and 
kiss  it.  I  longed  to  put  my  arm  around  her  slender 
form  as  she  sat  there  so  near  me.  She  was  so 
natural,  so  innocent,  so  free  from  coquetry,  so 
brimming  over  with  genuine  feeling,  and  so  child- 
like withal,  that  I  could  not  admire  her  enough. 
But  I  stifled  my  longings  and  urged  again  for  a 
definite  reply  to  a  question  that  lay  at  my  heart. 

"After  we  have  waited  a  reasonable  time,  should 
your  father  withhold  his  consent  to  our  marriage, 
we  will  marry  without  his  consent.  Is  it — will  it 
not  be  so,  Brinka  ?  Tell  me  it  shall  be  so.  I  must 
hear  it  from  your  own  lips  now." 

"  I  have  so  much  to  say,  Caryl — to  explain.  But 
the  words  will  not  come.  It  is  all  so  strange — the 
place  is  so  unpropitious.  Lady  Griselda  may  open 
her  eyes  at  any  moment.  Caryl,  I  shall  never 
marry  any  one  else,  never  !  and — yes — it  shall  be 
so.  You  have  your  answer,  Caryl.  It  shall  be  so. 
But  we  must  wait.  Papa  and  I  have  been  such 
good  friends — such  devoted  comrades — all  my  life, 
it  is  hard  to  go  counter  to  his  wishes.  He  may 
relent.  He  may  give  his  consent  when  he  finds  my 
peace  of  mind — my  happiness — at  stake.  He  has 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


371 


always  liked  you,  Caryl,  and  if  you  only  had  a  title 
he  would — but  I  am  glad  you  have  not.  I  have  no 
respect  for  titles.  I  have  cause  to  hate  them.  It  is 
so  silly  to  call  one  my  Lord  Duke  who  has  done 
nothing  great.  Any  idiot  can  have  a  title.  Glad- 
stone won't  accept  a  title,  and  he  is  greater  without. 
But  we  will  wait  a  little,  Caryl,  and  then — " 
Brinka  paused  and  I  took  up  the  theme. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  said,  we  will  wait — a 
reasonable  time — and  then — " 

"  Yes,  Caryl,  I  love  you  ;  you  are  all  the  world  to 
me.  I  could  not  live  if  I  did  not  think  we  should 
pass  our  lives  together.  There,  that  is  papa's 
voice  ;  he  is  coming !  Can  you  be  as  you  always 
have  been,  Caryl,  no  more,  no  less  ?" 

"  I  can  be  anything,"  I  answered,  and  touching 
the  Lady  Griselda's  chair  with  my  foot,  as  if  by 
accident,  she  opened  her  eyes  and  remarked,  as 
though  she  had  been  talking  straight  along : 

"  We  are  having  a  delicious  breeze,  my  dear." 

"A  delightful  breeze,  Cousin  Griselda,"  returned 
Brinka,  with  a  far-off  voice. 

"  The  coast  bears  very  little  resemblance  to  the 
Atlantic  coast.  Do  you  not  think  so,  Mr.  Wye  ?" 

This  was  the  longest  sentence  the  Lady  Griselda 
had  ever  addressed  to  me,  and  I  replied  to  it  with 
what  perspicuity  I  could  muster. 

"  What  was  that  you  were  saying  about  the 
Pacific  coast,  Cousin  Griselda  ?"  asked  Mr.Vaughan, 
with  great  civility,  as  he  joined  us. 

The  Lady  Griselda  told  him,  calling  him  Harold, 


372 


BR1NKA  : 


and,  after  making  some  rather  more  lucid  expla- 
nations than  I  had,  Mr.  Vaughan  turned  to  his 
daughter,  asking  if  she  knew  what  had  become  of 
Glencairn.  As  Brinka  was  replying,  the  Earl 
sauntered  up  to  us,  and  I,  lifting  my  hat  to  Brinka 
and  the  Lady  Griselda,  availed  myself  gladly  of  the 
opportunity  of  going,  as  I  was  too  much  agitated, 
too  blissful,  and  too  anxious,  to  take  part  in  any 
commonplace  conversation. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


373 


XXXVI. 

THE    EARL    RESIGNS    BRINKA. 

WE  had  delightful  weather  for  our  sight- 
seeing, and  one  bright,  clear  morning  we 
found  ourselves  on  the  summit  of  the  cone-shaped 
Mount  Diablo,  having  taken  the  train  from  San 
Francisco  the  afternoon  previous,  stopping  over 
night  at  Haywards. 

Mrs.  Repsneider  had  grown  stronger  and  brighter 
daily  from  the  time  we  left  home,  and  Professor 
Wye,  feeling  greatly  encouraged  about  her,  en- 
tered into  everything  with  the  zest  of  an  unhack- 
neyed boy.  Mrs.  Blythe,  true  to  her  desire  of 
obtaining  understanding,  was  always"  alert  and 
ready  for  any  diversion,  and  her  son  was  always 
ready  to  assist  her,  where  assistance  was  needed, 
with  a  devotion  that  was  beautiful  to  see. 

"  It's  a  tremendous  view,"  said  Roy,  as  we  began 
looking  around. 

"  Fancy  this  lone  eminence  towering  up  here 
nearly  four  thousand  feet,  just  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  tourists,"  and  the  Earl  of  Baysfield  gave  a 
round,  boyish  laugh  at  his  own  joke,  adding  :  "And 
it  commands  no  end  of  a  view,  you  know — thousands 
of  miles." 


374 


BRINK  A  : 


"  The  guide-books  say  an  extent  of  thirty-nine 
thousand  square  miles,"  said  Brinka,  as  with  her 
arms  raised  to  support  the  field-glass  I  had  focused 
for  her,  she  swept  the  horizon,  her  lissome  grace, 
in  her  close-fitting  mountain  attire,  silhouetted  against 
the  almost  cloudless  sky. 

"  An  area,  my  dear,"  corrected  the  Duke,  taking 
in  her  graceful  pose  and  the  details  of  her  attire  to 
her  dainty  gloves  and  shoes. 

"  It  is  something  startling  to  think  you  can  com- 
mand an  area  of  thirty-nine  thousand  square  miles," 
said  Brinka,  with  her  soft  laugh,  removing  the  glass 
from  her  eyes,  and  utterly  unconscious  of  her 
father's  and  my  own  scrutiny  and  mental  obser- 
vations. "  Why  not  thirty-seven  thousand — or  forty 
thousand?"  she  asked,  laughingly,  again.  "Do  you 
believe  it  is  exactly  thirty-nine  thousand  square 
miles  we  see,  Mr.  Wye?" 

"  Exactly,"  I  replied,  "  not  a  mile  more  or  less." 

"  Never  believe  anything,  my  dear,  until  you 
prove  it  to  be  true;  I  never  do,"  said  Mr.  Vaughan, 
with  a  cold  smile,  as  he  narrowed  his  eyes  to  look 
at  some  point  that  attracted  his  attention. 

"And  I  always  believe  everything  until  I  prove  it 
to  be  false,"  returned  Brinka.  "  But,  then,  papa, 
you  know  our  minds  always  did  run  in  the  same 
channel.  Whilst  yours  mounts  boldly  up  stream, 
mine  flows  smoothly  down  stream." 

"  I  have  an  American  daughter,  you  see,  Miss 
Leighton,"  said  the  Duke,  his  cold  smile  relaxing 
into  a  well-bred  laugh,  as  he  turned  to  Cecil,  who 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


375 


was  standing  beside  me  and  listening  with  a  pretty, 
amused  smile  to  the  conversation.  "  I  venture  to 
say,  Miss  Leighton,  you  never  permitted  yourself 
to  make  ironical  speeches  to  your  father." 

"  My  father  and  I  were  quite  like  brother  and 
sister,  at  times,  Mr.  Vaughan,  and  a  little  sarcasm 
on  occasion,  I  noticed,  rendered  him  much  more 
amenable."  Cecil  said  this  in  her  pretty,  shy  way, 
with  a  pretty,  shy  laugh.  Mr.  Vaughan,  being  un- 
mistakably captivated  with  all  she  said,  received 
it  with  the .  smiling  assertion  that  young  ladies 
were  all  charmingly  alike.  And  when  Roy  Hil- 
dreth  asked  Cecil  to  accompany  him  to  another 
point  of  the  mountain,  for  "a  better  view  of  the 
coast  range,"  he  said,  hoping,  as  I  knew,  to  get  a 
few  words  alone  with  her,  Mr.  Vaughan  went  over 
with  them,  walking  on  the  other  side  of  Cecil,  and 
saying,  as  he  left  us  : 

"  I  will  commit  my  very  American  daughter  to 
your  care,  Baysfield  (ignoring  me  totally),  hoping 
you  will  instil  some  wholesome  English  views — " 

"Oh,  I  say,  now,  Duke!"  returned  Baysfield, 
"  give  me  something  possible,  you  know.  How  can 
one  talk  of  English  views  with  such  a  view  as  this 
before  us  ?  There's  nothing  like  it  in  all  Great 
Britain,"  and  Baysfield's  laugh  rang  out  strong  and 
clear. 

Miles  had  spread  rugs  from  the  wagons  around 
on  some  of  the  rocks,  and  the  Professor  and  his 
sister,  and  near  them  Blythe  and  his  mother,  were 
seated,  enjoying  the  prospect  at  their  ease.  Brinka, 


376  BRINK  A  : 

the  Lady  Griselda,  and  myself  were  no  sooner 
seated  on  a  projection  of  rock,  where  we  looked 
out  on  a  veritable  fairyland,  than  Baysfield  excused 
himself  and  left  us,  saying  he  had  a  question  to  ask 
of  Professor  Wye. 

He  had  twice  before,  as  on  the  yacht,  made  a 
sudden  departure  from  the  side  of  Brinka  in  my 
favor,  and  I  was  quite  mystified  as  to  his  motive. 
But  I  accepted  my  opportunity ;  and  the  Lady  Gri- 
selda, as  though  in  tacit  league  with  the  Earl  of 
Baysfield,  quite  put  herself  out  to  be  civil  to  me. 

I  was  beginning  to  admire  the  Lady  Griselda, 
she  had  of  late  grown  so  gracious  to  me — why,  I 
could  not  conceive,  and  I  greatly  marvelled  at  it. 
But  there  were  so  many  astonishing  things  happen- 
ing in  that  land  of  wonders,  that  I  accepted  the 
good  gifts  the  gods  sent  me  unquestioningly. 

Brinka^and  I  had  but  little  conversation,  save  the 
merest  commonplaces,  under  the  constraint  of  the 
Lady  Griselda's  presence  ;  and  I  saw,  with  a  throb 
of  pain,  as  I  watched  the  shadows  come  and  go  on 
her  beautiful  face,  that  she  was  thoughtful  and  pen- 
sive, and  I  feared  she  might  have  had  some  further 
unpleasant  conversation  with  her  father. 

The  Lady  Griselda,  after  a  dry  comment  on  the 
sublimity  of  the  prospect,  took  from  her  reticule  a 
neat  little  pamphlet.  It  was  a  dissertation  in  French 
on  aerial  navigation,  she  curtly  observed ;  and  with 
the  remark  that  Mount  Diablo  would  be  a  capital 
spot  from  which  to  start  in  a  balloon  for  Paris,  she 
unlaughingly  buried  herself  in  her  dissertation, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


377 


whilst  Brinka  laughed  outright  without  in  the  least 
discomposing  her  cousin,  the  Lady  Griselda. 

My  interview  with  Brinka,  to  me  so  precious, 
although  constrained  by  time  and  place,  was  broken 
all  too  soon.  The  Duke,  with  Cecil,  came  up  to  us, 
the  Duke  looking  as  shocked  and  discomposed  as 
so  polite  a  man  could  at  this  last  and  very  marked 
desertion  of  Baysfield  from  the  post  he  had  assigned 
to  him.  Then  Blythe  and  his  mother  joining  us, 
the  Duke  was  very  gracious  to  Blythe.  Soon  after, 
the  Professor  and  his  sister,  with  Baysfield,  came  in 
sight  from  around  the  projection  of  a  rock,  Bays- 
field  greeting  us  with  a  "  Tally  ho !"  in  a  round, 
clear  voice,  through  his  fists,  to  represent  the  notes 
of  a  bugle.  Lastly,  Roy  joined  us,  as  dismal  and 
out  of  sorts  as  one  of  his  bright  temperament 
could  possibly  be.  And  thus,  at  cross  purposes, 
we  got  into  the  wagons  and  descended  the 
mountain. 

It  was  not  until  the  winter  had  set  in — a  winter 
of  flowers  and  balmy  airs  in  the  lovely  city  of  Los  An- 
geles,where  we  had  been  installed  for  several  weeks — 
that  I  comprehended  Baysfield's  motives  for  so  tacitly 
resigning  Brinka  to  me  in  spite  of  his  very  manifest 
admiration — and,  I  was  certain — more  than  admira- 
tion for  her.  Encountering  him  one  day  alone,  out 
on  the  lawn  of  our  hotel,  he  exclaimed : 

"  I  say,  Wye,  a  word  with  you  !  You  have  doubt- 
less seen  Chillingford's  plan  of  uniting  our  houses 
— his  and  mine,  I  mean — of  marrying  me,  in  short, 
to  his  daughter,  and  that  ?" 


378 


BR1NKA  : 


I  replied  that  I  had,  that  the  Duke  had  so  given 
me  to  understand. 

"  That's  his  plan,"  returned  Baysfield,  gloomily ; 
"  but  the  plan  won't  work.  It's  a  deuced  bore  to 
have  your  cards  stacked  for  you  by  some  one  else ; 
and  I'm  not  such  a  cad  as  to  go  dangling  after  a 
girl  who — well,  who  loves  some  one  else.  You 
have  the  advantage  of  me,  Wye,  and  I  yield  to  you 
the  victory.  The  girl  won't  look  at  me,  and  I'll  not 
lend  a  hand  to  any  such  a  beastly  sacrifice." 

"  The  advantage  of  you,  Glencairn  ? — "  I  began, 
and  then  suddenly  stopped. 

"  Yes,  decidedly,  in  more  ways  than  one ;  my 
worst  enemy  would  not  accuse  me  of  possessing  a 
tittle  of  genius,  for  instance,  and — " 

"  I  beg  you'll  not  enumerate,"  I  said,  laughing. 
"  It  is  very  un-English  to  imagine  any  one  possesses 
the  advantage  over  you  in  anything." 

"  Oh  !  I  had  much  of  the  English  knocked  out 
of  me,  you  know,  in  those  years  I  spent  at  Pro- 
fessor Wye's  among  you  American  boys,  and  I 
glory  in  being  cosmopolitan,  which  the  Duke  will 
never  be ;  he's  too  out-and-out  the  English  noble- 
man. I  can  see,  as  well  as  another,  when  a  fellow  is 
courted  by  an  ambitious  father,  just  because  he's  an 
Earl  and  all  that  rot.  Between  you  and  me,  it's  a 
detestable  nuisance." 

"  I  supposed  it  was  one  of  the  finest  things  in  the 
world  to  be  an  Earl,  and  be  able  to  take  your  pick 
among  the  fairest." 

"  It  isn't  the  finest  thing  in  the  world  to  have 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  3/9 

beautiful  girls  flung  at  you  for  no  reason  except  that 
you  chance  to  have  a  title,"  interrupted  Glencairn. 
"  I'd  rather  be  a  plain  American  citizen  and  have 
some  brains,  and  take  my  chances.  I  envy  you, 
Wye,  all  around.  But  I  call  myself  an  honorable 
man,  and  I  won't  lend  myself  to  anything  so  deuced 
mean  as  to  be  led  into  marrying  a  girl  against  her 
will." 

"  I  should  think  not,"  I  affirmed,  with  warmth. 

"  She's  no  end  of  a  fine  girl,"  he  declared.  "  I 
used  to  rave  about  her.  I  could  rave  about  her 
now,  but  where's  the  use  ?  It's  such  a  one-sided 
affair,  you  know.  She  has  always  loved  you,  Wye, 
I  am  certain  of  it.  And  she  could  never  love  me. 
I  am  certain  of  that,  too,"  and  Baysfield  paused, 
looking  gloomily  down  into  the  upturned  face  of 
one  of  his  setters.  "  No !  she  never  could  have 
loved  me  under  any  conditions." 

I  had  nothing  to  say  to  this  and  so  said  nothing. 
Presently  Baysfield  renewed  the  subject. 

"  I  was  present,  you  know,  when  that  young 
brute,  Repsneider,  read  aloud  her  letter  to  you, 
there  at  Professor  Wye's,  before  the  whole  school. 
I  could  have  choked  him  on  the  spot,  but  he  was  a 
senior,  you  see,  and  I  was  one  of  the  juniors,  and 
wasn't  big  enough  to  thrash  him."  Baysfield 
stooped  to  loosen  the  setter's  collar,  uttering  male- 
dictions upon  the  absent  groom,  who  "  ought  to 
know  better  than  to  choke  a  valuable  dog,  you 
know,  confound  him  !" 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  you,  Baysfield  ?"  I  began, 


3  So  DRINKA: 

so  taken  aback  by  surprise  at  his  gratuitous  renun- 
ciation of  the  hand  of  Brinka,  that,  although  there 
was  a  certain  rough  delicacy  in  his  manner  that 
could  not  offend,  any  reply  was  difficult. 

"  Better  say  nothing,  Wye,  that'll  be  the  safest. 
Chillingford  '11  make  a  deuce  and  all  of  a  row ;  but 
by  Jove!  the  Duke  '11  have  to  back  down  after  he 
sees  his  opposition  to  your  marriage  with  her  is  no 
use,  you  know.  I  shall  have  something  to  say  to 
him  myself  when  I  have  a  good  chance.  He  calls 
himself  an  untitled  American  and  all  that  bosh, 
but  comes  the  British  father  over  her  with  a 
vengeance." 

"  You  are  very  candid,  Baysfield,"  I  began  again. 

"  Yes,  better  be  candid  and  done  with  it,"  was 
his  reply.  "  And  I  mean  something  by  my  candor, 
which  is  more  than  most  people  do." 

I  was  telling  him  how  much  I  appreciated  his 
kindness  in  coming  so  frankly  to  me,  as  his  grooms, 
guns  in  hand,  made  their  appearance,  and  with  a 
good-morning  to  me  he  strode  off  with  them,  his 
fine,  athletic  figure  showing  to  advantage  in  his 
handsome  hunting  suit 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


381 


XXXVII. 

THE    DUKE    HAS    OTHER    VIEWS. 

AS  I  was  entering  the  hotel  from  the  lawn  where 
Baysfield   and  I   had  been    standing,    Miles 
Mather  came  toward  me,  saying  that  the  Professor 
had  just  received  a  letter  containing  intelligence  of 
Clavel,  and  would  I  join  him  in  his  room. 

"  The  letter  was  written  by  the  girl  we  sent  out 
to  California  here  with  two  thousand  dollars,  Mr. 
Caryl."  Miles  had  been  so  many  years  in  the 
family  that  he  always  used  the  plural  pronoun  in 
speaking  of  deeds  performed  by  the  Professor. 

"  What  does  the  letter  say  ?"  I  asked,  arguing 
nothing  good  from  Miles'  troubled  face. 

Miles  hesitated.  "  You  may  as  well  know,  first 
as  last,  Mr.  Caryl,"  he  replied.  "  It  says  that  the 
Professor's  nephew,  Clavel  Repsneider,  took  the 
Panama  fever  in  crossing  the  Isthmus,  and  that  he 
is  now  dying." 

"  Dying?"  I  repeated. 

"  The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard,  Mr. 
Caryl.  Retribution  does  not  always  come  so 
swiftly.  But  death,  with  the  chance  to  repent  which 
this  serious  illness  will  give  him,  may  prove  a 
merciful  ending  to  his  wicked  career." 


382  BRINKA : 

"  It  may,  indeed,  Miles,"  I  replied,  devoutly,  more 
startled  than  grieved  at  the  sudden  intelligence. 

I  found  the  Professor  exchanging  his  dressing- 
gown  for  his.  coat. 

"I  see  by  your  face,  Caryl,"  he  said,  with  a  serious 
look,  "  that  you  have  heard  the  painful  intelligence. 
It  is  a  great  shock  to  me,  and  will  be  a  greater 
shock  to  his  mother.  I  wish  you  to  go  with  me  and 
see  him,  to  ascertain  the  worst  before  we  say  any- 
thing to  my  sister;  though  it  is  to  be  hoped  she 
will  grieve  less  over  him  in  his  grave  than  in  the 
constant  fear,  as  she  has  been,  of  again  hearing  of 
some  heinous  crime  against  the  laws  of  God  and 
man  committed  by  him.  It  seems  this  girl  heard 
of  his  being  ill  in  some  accidental  way  and  went  to 
him,  forgiving  him,  woman-like,  and  has  been 
nursing  him  and  spending  her  money  on  him.  So, 
at  least,  she  says  in  her  letter.  She  came  with  him 
here  to  Los  Angeles  from  San  Francisco,  by  the 
physician's  orders,  he  being  at  that  time,  she  says, 
able  to  walk  about  some ;  but  after  getting  here, 
instead  of  growing  better,  he  grew  daily  worse." 

We  found  Clavel  very  ill,  very  weak  and  emaci- 
ated, utterly  changed  from  his  former  reckless,  arro- 
gant self.  He  seemed  aware  of  his  condition,  but 
perfectly  indifferent  to  it  and  to  the  presence  of 
both  the  Professor  and  myself.  He  expressed  a 
wish  to  see  his  mother  before  he  died,  but  otherwise 
took  very  little  heed  of  anything. 

His  mother,  after  the  first  shock  of  finding  him  so 
low,  accepted  his  fate  as  a  preferable  one  to  what  it 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  383 

might  have  been,  or  bid  fair  to  be,  had  he  lived. 
She  was  with  him  when  he  died,  his  death  occurring 
only  a  few  days  after  we  received  the  letter  announcing 
his  illness. 

His  death  would  have  cast  a  gloom  over  us 
had  not  our  party,  by  an  unlooked-for  circumstance, 
orseveral  unlooked-for  circumstances, been  suddenly 
broken  up. 

The  Duke  of  Chillingford  from  the  first  had  been 
excessively  polite  to  my  sister  Cecil,  paying  her  of 
late  very  marked  attention,  causing  Hildreth  many 
a  jealous  pang.  And  although  I  could  see  that 
Cecil  accepted  his  many  courtesies  as  from  the 
father  of  her  friend,  conversing  with  him  with  a 
pretty,  deferential  interest  on  the  subjects  he 
broached,  the  Duke,  through  egotism,  blind  to  her 
real  feelings,  or  lacking  in  that  last  fine  instinct  that 
teaches  the  motives  of  others,  with  the  tact  to  re- 
spect them,  proposed  to  her  one  morning,  offering 
her  his  hand  and  title,  with  the  confident  expectation 
of  being  accepted,  but  was  refused. 

As  the  Fates  would  have  it,  whilst  he  was  chafing 
with  the  sting  and  humiliation  of  Cecil's  rejection 
of  his  suit,  I  sought  him  to  make  a  formal  proposal 
for  his  daughter's  hand.  Ignorant  of  his  inter- 
view with  Cecil,  I  wondered  not  a  little  at  his  very 
apparent  ill-humor,  and  would  gladly  have  deferred 
my  request  until  a  more  propitious  moment. 

He  received  me  with  freezing  politeness,  bowing 
stiffly,  and  saying:  "Pray  be  seated,  Mr.  Wye." 

I  took  a  chair  and  said  what  I  had  come  to  say 


3^4 


BR1NKA  : 


with  more  freedom  than  I  feared  I  might ;  his 
scarcely  civil  manner,  instead  of  checking  speech, 
fired  me  with  courage,  and  I  spoke  at  my  ease. 

"Upon  my -soul,  Mr.  Wye,  you  take  me  quite  un- 
prepared for  such  a  communication.  It  cannot  be- 
said  you  lack  for  assurance,"  he  ejaculated,  as  I 
concluded  my  request. 

"  Please  explain,  Mr.  Vaughan,"  I  replied,  very 
civilly,  at  the  same  time  boiling  with  indignation  at 
his  uncivil  speech  and  offensively  sarcastic  tone.  I 
had  never  seen  him  in  such  an  ill-humor,  and  could 
not  attribute  it  entirely  to  the  result  of  my  request. 
Something  had  evidently  disturbed  him,  and 
changed  his  usually  polite,  if  frigid,  habit  of  ad- 
dressing me.  "  If  you  wish  simply  to  imply,"  I 
continued,  "that  it  would  be  assurance  in  any  man 
to  aspire  to  the  hand  of  your  peerless  daughter,  I 
quite  agree  with  you." 

"  Have  you  spoken  to  my  daughter,  Mr.  Wye  ?" 
interrogated  the  Duke,  fixing  his  cold,  metallic 
eyes,  gleaming  with  ire,  full  upon  me. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Vaughan,"  I  returned. 
"  Do  you  wish  to  know  if  I  have  acquainted  Miss 
Vaughan  with  my — sentiments  toward  her?" 

"Exactly so.  Such  was  my  meaning.  I  wish  to 
know  if  you  have  acquainted  my  daughter  with 
your — sentiments  toward  her  ?" 

"  I  have,"  I  replied. 

"  Quite  an  American  proceeding,"  he  sneered. 
"And  these — sentiments, possibly, were  reciprocal?" 

"  I  should  scarcely  be  here,  Mr.  Vaughan,  to  beg 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  38- 

of  you  to  give  your  consent  to  my  union  with  your 
daughter  had  they  not  been  so,"  I  said. 

"And  you  had  no  doubt  but  that  my  consent 
would  be  given  for  the  asking,  I  suppose  ?  Do  you 
and  she  expect  to  live  on — sentiments,  or  do  you 
expect  the  robins  to  feed  you,  like  the  babes  in  the 
wood  ?" 

There  was  such  an  excess  of  irony  in  Mr. 
Vaughan's  tone  it  appealed  to  my  sense  of  the 
ludicrous.  I  no  longer  felt  indignant.  Smothering 
a  smile,  almost  a  laugh,  in  consideration  of  the 
vital  importance  to  me  of  his  decision,  I  said :  "  If  I 
can  show  you,  Mr.  Vaughan,  that  I  have  sufficient 
for  the  support  of  a  wife,  will  you  give  me  your 
consent  to  marry  your  daughter  ?" 

"That  is  a  plain  question,  Mr.  Wye,  and  I  will 
give  you  a  plain  answer.  Certainly  not ;  I  should 
never  yield  to  such  a  foolish  request.  Your 
'sufficient'  (I  am  acquainted  with  the  figures,  Mr. 
Wye)  is  about  seventy-five  or  eighty  thousand 
dollars,  with  two  hundred  thousand  added  on  the 
clay  of  your  marriage,  and  to  that  the  bulk  of  Pro- 
fessor Wye's  property,  should  he  die  before  you — > 
all  told,  amounting  to  but  little  over  a  million  of 
dollars.  Your  own  good  sense  should  have  told 
you,  Mr.  Wye,  that  your  '  sufficient '  falls  far  short 
of  what  my  daughter  has  a  right  to  expect." 

"  Miss  Vaughan  has  a  right  to  expect  every 
benefit  earth  can  yield,"  I  replied,  warmly,  stirred  to 
something  like  disgust  at  his  computation  of  my 
expectations.  "  But  if  she — if  Miss  Vaughan,  con- 


386 


BRIXK'A  : 


siders  her  happiness  dependent  on  a  union  with  me, 
as  she  herself  has  assured  me,  and  would  prefer  it 
to  vast  wealth — " 

"Her  'preference'  is  that  of  an  ignorant  child, 
Mr.  Wye,  and  you  have  done  a  dishonorable  deed 
in  taking  advantage  of  it  for  your  own  advance- 
ment. A  young  man,  a  boy,  I  might  say,  of  no 
means — to  speak  of — of  no  prospects,  no  position — 
a  mere  hanger  on — to  aspire  to  the  hand  of  my 
daughter!  Faugh!  the  thing  would  be  absurd  if 
it  were  not,  as  I  said,  dishonorable.  You  have  my 
answer,  Mr.  Wye." 

Every  contemptuous  word  stung  sharply,  but  I 
could  not  afford  to  quarrel  with  the  father  of  the 
woman  I  loved.  "  Mr.  Vaughan,"  I  returned,  "  I  am 
young;  as  you  say,  your  daughter  is  young;  I 
have  always  loved  her — she  has  always  loved  me. 
You  speak  of  my  lack  of  prospects  and  position ; 
you  do  not  take  into  account  that  I  have  a  chosen 
profession  which  will  possibly — most  probably — 
and  I  speak  without  egotism — command  position 
and  be  a  source  of  wealth  for  me.  I  have  already 
realized  quite  a  sum  from  it,  as  well  as  favorable 
mention." 

"Your  profession,  Mr.  Wye?"  he  asked,  with  a 
cold,  questioning  look. 

"  My  profession  ?  yes,  that  of  music,"  I  briefly 
replied. 

"  True,  I  had  forgotten.  A  most  beggarly  pro- 
fession— a  capital  profession  to  starve  on,"  and  Mr. 
Vaughan  gave  a  short,  cynical  laugh. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  387 

"That  is  as  it  may  be,"  I  returned,  swallowing 
my  ire  for  Brinka's  sake,  and  thinking  of  the  great 
names  who  had  achieved  so  much,  giving  to  the 
world  so  many  grand  works,  without  which  the 
world  would  be  a  desolate  blank.  I  had  said  but 
little  to  any  one  of  the  absorbing  passion  for  music 
that  had  taken  possession  of  me.  Harmonies  of 
deep  import  welled  up,  fresh  and  urgent,  in  my 
thought,  incorporating  themselves  with  my  daily 
life,  until  I  was  forced  to  embody  them  in  outward 
expression.  I  had  faith  in  myself,  and  felt  certain, 
without  any  feeling  of  vanity — I  was  sure  it  was  no 
egotism — that  I  could  achieve  great  works  and  a 
reputation.  Something  of  this  I  now  said  to  Mr. 
Vaughan,  adding  that  I  conceived  there  was  no 
limit  to  what  might  be  accomplished  in  these  days, 
where  one  has  recognized  talent,  and  where  one 
has  industry  and  perseverance.  Mr.  Vaughan  looked 
at  me  with  cynical  eyes  before  replying. 

"  You  are  a  mere  boy,  Mr.  Wye,  barely  a  year 
older  than  my  daughter.  If  you  were  a  Beethoven 
or  a  Mozart  (do  you  know  what  Mozart  got  for  his 
'  Don  Giovanni '  ?)  your  extreme  youth  would  unfit 
you,  in  my  estimation,  as  an  applicant  for  "my 
daughter's  hand.  I  object  to  your  youth.  For 
another  thing,  I  marvel  it  has  not  occurred  to  you 
that  my  daughter's  station  should  have  deterred 
you  from  the  presumption  of  aspiring  to  her  hand." 

"  You  certainly  are  very  plain-spoken,  Mr. 
Vaughan,"  I  replied,  still  quite  civilly.  "  I  am,  as 
you  say,  but  a  year  older  than  your  daughter,  but 


3  88  BRINKA: 

I  have  always  been  old  for  my  years,  and  I  feel 
quite  able  to  shield  her  from  all  the  ordinary  ills  of 
life.  And  as  I  do  not  acknowledge  the  superiority 
of  any  station  over  that  bestowed  by  good  birth, 
good  breeding,  good  endowments,  and  the  prospect 
of  a  good  position — " 

"  Yes,  every  young  American  looks  forward  to 
being  the  President  of  the  United  States,"  sneered 
Mr.  Vaughan,  with  an  ugly  curl  of  his  handsome 
lip.  "  But  say  no  more,  Mr.  Wye ;  you  may  con- 
sider my  rejection  of  your  suit  for  my  daughter's 
hand  a  final  one." 

As  I  rose  to  go  a  somewhat  urged  offer  of 
Blythe's  flashed  into  my  mind.  He  had  several 
times  proposed  that  I  should  put  in  his  hands,  to 
manipulate  and  quadruple  or  sextuple,  certain  sums 
of  money  (he  being  so  in  the  practice  of  turning 
thousands  into  millions),  and  I  was  about  to  ask 
Mr.  Vaughan  if  he  would  withdraw  his  opposition 
to  my  suit  in  case  I  became  possessed  of  as  many 
millions  as  I  had  hundreds  of  thousands — the 
amount  a  person  owned  being  his  evident  criterion 
of  worth.  But  with  a  second  look  into  his  cold, 
set  face,  so  hard  and  white,  with  its  steely  eyes  and 
almost  bloodless  lips,  aristocratic  in  form,  but  full 
of  cynical,  disagreeable  curves,  and  the  realization 
of  his  contemptuous  words  sharp  upon  me,  the 
thought  was  banished  as  quickly  as  formed,  and  I 
determined  on  making  no  further  appeal  to  him. 

"  Not  to  prolong  our  interview,"  I  said,  standing 
hat  in  hand,  "  I  feel  in  honor  bound  to  add  one  thing 


AX  AMERICAN  COU.VTESS. 

more,  Mr.  Vaughan,  or  my  Lord  of  Chillingford, 
perhaps  I  should  say — " 

"  Mr.  Vaughan  will  answer,  at  least  in  America," 
he  returned.  ; 

"  I  will  merely  add  that,  understanding  you  have 
rejected  my  suit  for  your  daughter's  hand  on 
grounds  I  do  not  recognize  as  sufficient,  I  will  tell 
you  honestly  that  after  waiting  a  reasonable  length 
of  time,  should  you  not  change  your  views  and 
accord  your  consent  to  our  union,  I  shall  certainly 
do  my  best  to  prevail  on  your  daughter  to  marry 
me  without  your  consent." 

"And  I  shall  do  my  best  to  prevent  my  daughter 
from  having  the  opportunity,"  he  returned,  white 
from  repressed  rage,  his  eyes  growing  pinched  with 
a  cruel  look  in  them  I  had  never  before  seen. 

I  bowed,  left  him,  and  started  for  a  long  walk 
alone,  a  thing  I  had  not  done  since  we  all  left  New 
York  for  California. 

It  took  me  several  hours  of  hard  walking  to 
recover  my  equanimity,  it  had  been  such  a  struggle 
to  preserve  my  temper  under  the  repeated  insults 
of  the  man  I  was  wishing  to  call  my  father-in-law. 


390 


BRIXKA; 


XXXVIII. 

"l   AM   AFRAID    I    AM   THE    CAUSE." 

WHEN  I  returned  to  the  hotel  the  first  one  I 
encountered  was  Lisette,  all  in  a  flutter. 

"  Votre  pardon,  Monsieur"  she  hurriedly  said. 
"  One  moment ;  I  have  been  seeking  Monsieur.  I 
have  much  douleur — how  is  it  ? — grief.  Milord  is  trcs 
mad-angry.  I  never  saw  Milord  so  mad-angry — 
jamais.  And  Miladi  is  in  tears.  I  never  saw 
Miladi  weep  such  tears — -jamais.  And  cequi  le  met 
en  co fere — it  is  all  about  you,  Monsieur — ceci  vous 
conccrne,  Monsieur." 

"  Take  your  time,  Lisette,  and  speak  French, 
only  French,"  I  said.  She  was  much  agitated,  and 
had  a  scared,  badgered  look ;  but  growing  some- 
what more  composed,  she  told  me  in  voluble  French 
that  hasty  preparations  had  been  made,  and  that 
the  Duke  of  Chillingford  and  the  Countess  Brinka 
were  going  to  leave  within  an  hour  for  San  Fran- 
cisco, to  take  the  steamer  from  there  for  Yoko- 
hama. She  said  that  the  Duke  was  afraid  of  me, 
and  had  not  left  the  Countess  Brinka  for  a  moment, 
consequently  her  lady  could  not  get  a  chance  to 
send  me  one  word,  so  she  (Lisette)  thought  I  might 
wish  to  know  all  about  it.  She  said  it  was  also 


AN    AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


391 


because  the  Duke  had  proposed  for  the  hand  of 
Mademoiselle  Leighton,  and  Mademoiselle  would 
none  of  him.  She  had  overheard  and  understood 
that  much  in  the  Duke's  very  angry  conversation 
with  her  lady,  and  also  that  he  had  forbidden  her 
lady  thinking  any  more  of  me ;  but  malgre,  que  she 
knew  her  lady  thought  of  nothing  and  no  one  else. 
And  if  I  would  write  a  few  lines  to  her  lady,  she 
would  be  back  in  five  minutes,  coute  que  co&te,  and 
would  see  that  her  lady  got  my  billet. 

I  went  to  the  Professor's  private  parlor,  of  which 
I  had  the  use,  where  I  had  directed  Lisette  to  find 
me.  She  was  as  good  as  her  word.  A  hurried  rap 
at  the  door  announced  her,  in  her  neat  little  French 
bonnet  and  scarf,  ready  for  the  journey.  She  took 
the  few  hurried  words  I  had  written  to  Brinka,  and 
flew  off,  as  though  she  had  wings,  without  a  word 
save  an  "Adieu,  Monsieur"  through  her  tears, 
drying  her  eyes  as  she  went  on  a  small  bright  silk 
bandanna. 

I  walked  over  to  the  window,  and  standing  there 
in  a  very  dismal  mood,  I  presently  saw  the  Duke 
of  Chillingford  hand  his  daughter  into  a  carriage, 
the  door  of  which  Roberts  was  holding  open. 

I  caught  a  glimpse  of  my  darling's  beautiful  eyes 
as  she  looked  up  at  the  window,  and  saw  that  they 
were  dimmed  with  weeping.  A  dark,  rich  blush 
spread  over  the  clear  olive  of  her  face  as  she  recog- 
nized me,  and  the  next  instant  the  carriage  took  her 
from  my  sight. 

"  How    is    this,    Caryl  ?"   asked    the    Professor, 


392 


BRINKA  : 


coming  into  the  room  with  an  open  letter  in  his 
hand.  "  Chillingford  has  suddenly  gone  with  his 
daughter,  and  with  no  explanation  further  than  the 
few  words  contained  in  this,"  and  the  Professor 
gave  a  motion  of  his  hand  that  held  the  letter. 
"  Do  you  know  anything  about  it  ?" 

"  I  think  I  do,"  I  returned.  "  I  am  afraid  I  am 
the  cause,  and  I  do  not  know  whether  I  am  most 
hurt  or  most  indignant." 

The  Professor  gave  me  a  penetrating  look  full  of 
kindest  sympathy,  but  said  nothing. 

"  The  Duke  of  Chillingford  was  fearful  I  was 
going  to  marry  his  daughter  out  of  his  hand,  and  so 
takes  her  to  Yokohama,"  I  continued,  with  all  the 
bitterness  I  felt.  "  He  told  me  in  round  terms  that 
he  had  tolerated  me  on  your  account,  having  the 
most  profound  respect  for  you.  It  was  when  I 
made  formal  application  for  the  hand  of  his 
daughter." 

"So,"  said  the  .Professor.  "What  could  be  his 
objections  to  you  ?  I  am  curious  to  know." 

"  Lack  of  money  and  the  want  of  a  title,"  I  re- 
turned, with  caustic  brevity. 

"Very  serious  defects  in  the  present  age  of  the 
world,"  said  the  Professor,  quietly.  "  But  money 
can  be  made  and  titles  can  be  bought." 

"The  Duke  thinks  he  has  found  both  in  the  Karl 
of  Baysfield,"  I  returned. 

"And  his  daughter  is  of  another  opinion,"  the 
Professor  dryly  replied. 

"  The  Duke  told  me  his  daughter  was  formed  to 


AN  AMERICAN  COUXTESS. 

shine,  and  that  he  had  educated  her  for  a  great 
position  in  the  world,  and  that  it  was  dishonorable 
of  me  to  seek  to  pull  her  down  to  my  level." 

"The  Countess  Brinka  is  certainly  formed  to 
shine  in  any  position,"  said  the  Professor,  with 
seriousness.  "  I  have  been  looking  forward  quite 
confidently,  my  dear  boy,  to  seeing  her  one  day 
your  wife.  I  am  sorry  to  know  Chillingford  is — " 

"  Is  such  a  prig,"  I  interrupted,  with  exceeding 
bitterness. 

"  It  is  well  the  young  lady's  views  are  not  her 
father's,"  returned  the  Professor,  with  a  vast  smile. 
"  And  she,  having  great  influence  with  her  father, 
and  being,  moreover,  a  young  lady  of  character  and 
spirit,  and  very  evidently  greatly  attached  to  you, 
will  undoubtedly  cause  her  father  to  change  his 
opinions  in  your  favor.  You  have  no  title,  cer- 
tainly, Caryl,  but  if  it  is  lineage  Chillingford 
looks  for,  you  come  in  a  direct  line  from  an 
older  family  than  his — one  of  the  oldest  families 
on  record." 

"  So  Captain  Corrie  said,"  I  returned.  "  But  what 
is  family  without  money  ?" 

"  As  the  world  is  tending  it  seems  to  be  very 
little,"  returned  the  Professor,  with  the  dryest 
possible  intonation. 

I  was  repeating  another  of  the  Duke's  unpleasant 
speeches  as  the  door  opened  and  Cecil  entered. 
She  stood  a  moment,  saying:  "Am  I  intrud- 
ing ?" 

"  Come  in,  my  dear,  you  can  never  intrude,"  the 


394  BRINKA : 

Professor  assured  her.  "  We  were  speaking  of  the 
unexpected  departure  of  Mr.  Vaughan  and  Uie 
Countess  Brinka." 

"  That  is  what  I  came  to  ask  about.  It  is  ter- 
rible— so  sudden — such  a  shock — and  I  am  afraid  I 
am  the  cause,"  lamented  Cecil,  with  a  woful  look 
on  her  lovely  face. 

"You,  my  dear?"  queried  the  Professor. 

"He,  the  Duke  of  Chillingford,  wrote  me  a  note 
desiring  an  interview,  which  I  granted.  The  inter- 
view was  not  satisfactory  to  him,  and  he  permitted 
me  to  see  it.  You  are  my  brother,  Caryl,  and  Pro- 
fessor Wye  is  your  adopted  father  and  best  friend, 
and  I  feel  I  can  speak  freely,"  said  Cecil,  sweetly. 
"Soon  after  Mr.  Vaughan  left  me  I  went  to  my 
room,  and  Brinka  knocked  at  my  door.  I  saw  she 
was  much  troubled,  but  I  forebore  to  question  her, 
and  she  made  no  allusion  to  her  father  further  than 
to  say  that  my  brother  Caryl  was  with  him.  I  think 
she  would  soon  have  opened  her  heart  to  me,  con- 
fiding all  that  afflicted  her,  had  not  a  message  inop- 
portunely come  from  her  father  requesting  her 
presence.  And  the  next  thing  was  their  departure, 
Brinka  not  even  bidding  me  good-bye." 

"  She  could  not,  Cecil.  The  Duke  hurried  her 
off  without  a  farewell  word  to  any  one  of  us.  It 
would  be  laughable — his  panic — if  it  were  not 
almost  tragic."  I  made  some  further  explanations 
to  my  sister,  who  gradually  lost  her  self-accusing 
look,  and  was  full  of  sympathy  for  me.  Whilst  I 
was  reassuring  Cecil,  Hildreth  came  into  the  room. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


395 


He  had  just  encountered  Baysfield,  he  said,  who 
had  returned  from  his  gunning  expedition  to  find 
an  extraordinary  letter  from  the  Duke,  requesting 
him  (Baysfield)  to  join  him  in  San  Francisco. 

"  The  Earl  was  in  a  towering  rage  at  Chilling- 
ford,"  continued  Roy,  "  and  said  a  voyage  to  Yoko- 
hama was  not  to  his  liking,  and  that  he  should  re- 
main hereabouts  so  long  as  the  forests  and  brush 
are  full  of  such  fine  game.  In  spite  of  his  wrath, 
he  was  greatly  elated  with  the  amount  of  game  he 
had  bagged  on  his  present  excursion,  and  has 
presented  it  to  the  guests  of  our  hotel,  reserving  for 
himself  the  glory  and  mosquito  bites  starring  his 
face.  There  is  some  deep  secret  lying  back  of  the 
Duke's  sudden  hegira,  which  I  can  divine  in  part 
by  the  faces  present — the  Professor's  face  being 
benignly  sad  and  hopeful,  Caryl's  morosely  sad 
and  hopeless,  and  Miss  Leighton's  face  saintly  sad 
and  sorry.  But,  Caryl,  Yokohama  is  not  out  of 
the  world,  and  the  world  is  a  small  place.  Out  of 
the  world  it  is  that  is  the  large  place." 

"  You  are  truly  a  Job's  comforter,  Roy,"  I  re- 
turned; "but  as  you  are  not  expected  to  wear 
three  iron  hoops  around  your  heart  to  keep  it  from 
bursting  with  grief  at  the  Duke's  departure,  like  the 
faithful  Henry  when  he  heard  the  news  of  his 
master's  batrachian  metempsychosis,  you  can  afford 
to  be  jubilant  and  quiz  my  long  face." 

"  Hear  me  out,"  broke  in  Roy,  "  I  was  about  to 
propose  that  we  sail  in  a  body  to  Yokohama,  and 
give  our  friends  a  pleasant  surprise.  It  will — " 


396  BKIXA'A: 

"Not  for  worlds,"  exclaimed  Cecil,  with  an  energy 
I  had  never  before  seen  her  display. 

Roy  gave  her  a  quick  look.  "  I  beg  your 
pardon,  Miss  Leighton,"  he  said ;  "  it  was  the  merest 
folly  in  the  world,  but  I  am  not  always  light  as 
chaff,  I  assure  you.  There  will  be  no  need  of  fol- 
lowing; the  Duke  will  back  down,  and  seek  Caryl 
and  offer  him  an  apology  for  his  rudeness.  I  am 
certain  of  it.  With  great  perspicacity  I  divine  the 
cause,  you  see,  Caryl." 

"I  think  much  the  same,  Mr.  Hildreth,"  returned 
Cecil,  looking  radiantly  pleased,  so  much  were  her 
sympathies  aroused  in  my  behalf.  "  I  think  when 
he  has  time  to  reflect  he  will  see — " 

"  He  will  see  what  an  egregious  fool  he  has  made 
of  himself,"  interrupted  Roy. 

"  I  did  not  say  that,  Mr.  Hildreth,"  said  Cecil, 
smiling. 

"But  we  all  mean  it,  Miss  Leighton.  And  it 
has  always  pleased  me  to  see  Caryl's  manner 
toward  him — toward  Chillingford,  I  mean.  You 
surprise  and  baffle  him,  Caryl.  He  fully  expects 
some  time  to  startle  you  into  an  attitude  of  awe  at 
the  magnificence  of  his  Lord  Dukedom.  For, 
insist  as  he  will  in  America  here  on  being  '  plain 
Mr.  Vaughan ' — to  quote  his  own  words — he  is  the 
titled  aristocrat  in  his  heart  to  the  tips  of  his 
fingers.  But  you  stand  so  at  your  ease  before 
him,  neither  proud  nor  humble,  but — it  is  this  easy 
manner  of  yours — something  you  have  inherited, 
Caryl — that  puts  him  at  fault  and  compels  his  admi- 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  307 

ration,  while  it  jars  on  his  amour  propre — of  which 
he  has  an  unconscionable  share." 

"  How  shall  we  decide  ?"  asked  the  Professor, 
quietly  changing  the  subject,  his  glance  reverting 
from  one  to  the  other  with  seriously  benign  eyes. 
"  Shall  we  remain  here  at  Los  Angeles  for  a  time 
longer,  or  go  down  farther  into  Southern  California 
as  we  proposed,  or  shall  we  return  at  once  to  New 
York?" 

"I  accept  the  rebuke,  my  dear  Professor;  in 
other  words,  you  would  say  to  me  quantum  snfficit" 
said  Roy,  with  his  frank  laugh.  "  It  is  scarcely  a 
fair  thing  to  throw  mud-balls  at  one's  friends,  I 
must  admit.  For  myself,  I  am  ready  to  stay  or  go 
as  the  others  decide." 

We  held  a  council,  and  as  every  one,  like  Roy,  was 
willing  to  stay  or  go  as  the  others  decided,  we  might 
not  have  come  to  any  decision  had  not  Mrs.  Rep- 
sneider  said  she  would  like  to  return  to  Elm  Ridge, 
though  I  was  sure  it  was  for  sympathy  with  me,  as 
I  had  told  her  I  could  bear  it  (and  by  "  it "  she 
knew  I  meant  the  departure  of  Brinka)  better  any- 
where than  in  Los  Angeles,  or  at  any  place  in 
California. 

Just  before  we  left,  I  had  a  few  words  with  the 
Earl  of  Baysfield.  He  had  on  his  hunting  suit,  and 
was  fully  equipped  for  a  week's  gunning  expedition 
in  California!!  wilds.  He  came  to  my  room  to  say 
good-bye,  knowing  I  should  leave  Los  Angeles  be- 
fore he  returned.  I  discovered  in  the  course  of  our 
talk  that  his  regard  for  Brinka  was  even  more  pro- 


398  BRINKA  : 

found  than  I  had  at  first  supposed.  He  talked 
freely  of  the  Duke,  and  had  evidently  not  gotten 
over  his  umbrage,  but  he  reverted  constantly  to 
Brinka  with  perfect  candor. 

"  I  shall  do  my  best  to  get  over  it  as  speedily  as 
possible,"  he  said  ;  "  but  the  way  to  forget  a  beau- 
tiful girl  is  not  to  follow  her  to  the  world's  end,  you 
know."  He  told  me  he  was  going  to  stay  on  in 
California  and  hunt  while  the  season  lasted,  and 
then  he  would  find  some  other  distraction  to  ob- 
truding thoughts.  He  was  not  one  to  let  any  feel- 
ing of  regard,  however  strong,  for  a  young  lady 
floor  him,  he  said  ;  and  looking  into  his  fresh,  ruddy 
face  and  full,  blue  eyes,  I  was  certain  he  spoke  the 
truth. 

He  shook  hands  warmly  with  me  when  we 
parted,  with  the  trite  aphorism  that  it  was  a  long 
lane  that  had  no  turning,  and  prophesied  that 
within  three  years,  yes,  two  years,  he  would  dance 
at  my  wedding. 

"  Three  years  —three  centuries,"  I  thought ;  but 
what  I  said  was  that  I  was  sorry  to  be  the  one  to 
stand  in  his  way. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  answered.  "  If  it  had  not 
been  you  it  would  have  been  some  other  fellow.  I 
am  not  one  she  would  ever  have  fancied  under  any 
circumstances.  There  is  a  plenty  of  me,  you  know, 
but  not  enough  to  me;"  and  Glencairn  laughed, 
though  his  laugh  was  rather  a  forced  one.  "  When 
we  all  compared  first  names,  the  way  she  softly 
rolled  the  r,  in  yours  (Kar-rl)  was  enough.  No, 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  399 

I'm  not  the  one.  He  must  be  the  deuce  and  all  of 
a  fine  fellow  to  win  her  regard." 

With  this  parting  shot,  Glencairn  shook  my  hand 
again,  nearly  crunching  my  knuckles  in  his  vice- 
like  grip,  and  was  off. 

Looking  out  of  the  window  a  short  time  after,  I 
saw  him  getting  into  a  dog-cart  with  his  two 
grooms,  his  guns,  and  his  two  noble  setters.  Marco, 
who  was  beside  me,  gave  an  intelligent  whine  as 
they  drove  off,  having  formed  quite  an  intimacy 
with  the  setters. 

Seated  in  our  car,  with  books  and  papers,  as  we 
left  Los  Angeles  in  the  distance,  Mrs.  Blythe's  re- 
mark that  one  city,  as  far  as  she  could  judge,  was 
much  the  same  as  another,  stood  out  quite  isolated. 

"  But  it's  a  pity  for  the  young  ladies,"  she  added. 

"  Why,  what  have  the  young  ladies  done,  little 
mother?"  enquired  Blythe,  looking  up  from  his 
paper. 

"  Gone  stone  blind,  poor  things  !  In  New  York, 
Los  Angeles,  San  Francisco — all  a  havin' — having 
(Mrs.  Blythe  frequently  corrected  herself  of  late) 
little  dogs  by  a  ribbon  to  lead  them.  It's  a — " 

"  Boom  for  the  dog  fanciers,"  Blythe  said. 

"All  comes  from  reading  so  much  in  the  cars," 
said  Roy,  looking  up  from  the  leaves  of  the  maga- 
zine he  was  cutting  for  Cecil. 

"You  know'd  —  knew  —  I  didn't  mean  they're 
really  blind,"  and  laughing,  Mrs.  Blythe  resumed 
her  book. 


4OO 


BRINKA  : 


XXXIX. 

"ALL  HE  TOUCHES  TURNS  TO  GOLD." 

NEW  YORK  was  at  its  worst  on  the  afternoon 
we  arrived  in  the  city,  for  not  more  than 
once  in  the  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  of 
the  year  could  the  storm  fiends  have  gotten  up  such 
a  disturbance  of  the  elements.  It  snowed,  rained, 
hailed,  sleeted,  froze,  howled,  and  shrieked  all  at  the 
same  time  ;  and  every  living  thing  was  glad  of  any 
shelter  he,  she,  or  it  might  obtain.  Our  party,  so 
reduced  in  number  from  the  smiling  band  that  left 
New  York  a  few  months  previous,  was  transported 
from  the  ferry  station  to  an  up-town  hotel,  in  car- 
riages that  labored  through  the  frozen  slush  which 
swelled  the  gutters  to  rivers,  rendering  the  streets 
almost  impassable.  This  effort  of  Nature  to  ex- 
press some  great  grief,  or  excessive  indignation, 
possibly,  at  the  foul  wrongs  committed  everywhere 
around  in  the  great  city,  was  so  in  consonance  with 
my  own  feelings,  that  I  made  no  attempt  at  keeping 
up  any  conversation,  but  leaned  back  in  my  seat, 
looking  out  on  the  dismal  scene  and  indulging  in 
my  gloomy  thoughts. 

I  had  so  managed  that  Roy  (nothing  loath)  occu- 
pied the  seat  beside  Cecil,  in  the  carriage  with  the 
Professor  and  his  sister,  whilst  I  went  with  Blythe 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


4OI 


and  his  mother,  who  kept  up  a  running  fire  of  talk 
on  the  events  of  days  gone  by. 

It  had  been  our  intention  to  proceed  on  to  Elm 
Ridge  the  next  morning,  but  on  the  next  morning 
the  storm  was  still  raging,  the  snow  and  sleet  hav- 
ing yielded  to  a  steadily  pouring  rain. 

"  We  cannot  travel  with  any  comfort  in  such  a 
confounded  blizzard  as  this,"  exclaimed  Blythe, 
with  his  good-humored  laugh,  speaking  into  the 
room  as  he  stood  by  the  window  holding  back  the 
heavy  draperies  with  his  hand.  "  It's  raining  cats 
and  dogs,  and  the  wind  is  howling  as  though  all 
the  cats  and  dogs  had  gone  to  fighting.  Every  one 
ought  to  have  a  private  ark,  so  as  to  be  ready  for 
the  worst." 

The  Professor  looked  up  from  the  review  he  was 
reading  and  smiled  serenely  at  the  boyish  speech, 
saying : 

"  I  think  we  had  better  remain  within  doors 
to-day,  if  only  on  my  sister's  account.  Is  it  not  so, 
Emily  ?" 

Mrs.  Repsneider,  gently  assenting,  resumed  her 
book. 

"  Sakes  alive,  Owen !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Blythe, 
laughing  chubbily  and  looking  up  at  her  son  from 
the  huge  volume  over  which  she  had  been  poring, 
"  such  an  odd  thing  to  say.  But  it's  for  all  the 
world  jest — I  mean  just — such  a  speech  as  your 
poor,  dear  father  used  to  make." 

"Laigle  d'une  niaison  est  un  sot  dans  une  autre" 
returned  Blythe. 


4O2 


BRINK'A  : 


"  Bless  me !  that's  an  awful  thing  to  say,  Owen. 
I  know  enough  of  French — for  it's  been  floating 
around  Elm  Ridge  so  many  years  I'd  ought  to 
know  it — to  understand  the  meaning  of  that,"  cried 
Mrs.  Blythe,  aghast. 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  intend  anything  very  awful  ! 
You  must  not  take  me  too  literally,"  returned 
Blythe,  laughing.  "  You  must  allow  a  very  free 
translation.  I  merely  wished,  by  the  idiom,  to 
infer  that  the  son  of  the  house  of  Blythe  is  not  equal 
to  the  father." 

"  I'm  not  so  sutten — I  should  say  certain — of 
that,"  replied  Mrs.  Blythe,  resting  her  round,  baby- 
eyes  proudly  on  her  son.  "  You're  a  chip  of  the 
old  block,  Owen,  as  like  your  father  as  two  kernels 
of  corn.  I  am  sutten — I  mean  certain,"  she  con- 
tinued, correcting  herself  again,  "  that  you  are 
equal  to  your  father,  and  that  is  sayin' — I  mean 
saying — all  I  can  say." 

Mrs.  Blythe,  since  she  had  found  her  son  with 
his  ready-made  millions,  had  been  gradually  drop- 
ping her  peculiarities  of  dialect,  and  I  could  see 
was  making  Mrs.  Repsneider  her  model.  She  was 
diligently  employing  her  leisure  and  opportunities 
in  reading  and  studying  unabridged  dictionaries 
and  huge  encyclopaedias  and  manuals  of  conver- 
sation. In  fact,  she  said  to  me  that  now  she  had 
something  to  work  for,  and  that  now,  her  time 
being  all  her  own,  she  would  yet  prove  herself  a 
credit  to  her  son.  She  told  me,  moreover,  still 
quite  confidentially,  that  the  Countess  Brinka  had 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


403 


from  the  first  kindly  been  of  the  greatest  help  to 
her.  And  that  as  for  Cecil,  she  was  like  an  own 
daughter,  as  patient  as  a  lamb,  reading  with  her  and 
pointing  out  the  places  to  study. 

Blythe  took  his  mother's  efforts  at  self-improve- 
ment as  a  good  joke,  and  whether  she  lapsed  into 
her  former  lingual  inaccuracies,  or  patiently  cor- 
rected herself,  he  made  her  feel  that  she  was  the 
truest  and  best  little  woman,  and  the  one  most 
highly  esteemed,  the  world  contained. 

Meantime  the  morning  waned  ;  the  storm  without 
still  raged,  and  whilst  the  Professor  and  Mrs.  Rep- 
sneider  read  on  and  Mrs.  Blythe  still  studied  on, 
Roy  and  Cecil  talked  together  over  in  the  em- 
brasure of  the  window,  alike  unmindful  of  the 
storm-gusts  and  the  flight  of  time.  For  they  very 
apparently  had  arrived  in  the  most  quiet,  unob- 
trusive way  at  that  stage  where,  absorbed  each  in  the 
other,  all  external  objects  were  of  little  moment. 

Blythe  had  at  odd  times  been  plying  me  with 
arguments  in  favor  of  that  project  of  his  whereby  I 
was  to  realize  millions  for  thousands  through  his 
manipulation,  and  he  took  this  opportunity  to  open 
the  subject  anew. 

"  There  is  a  good  chance  now,  Wye,"  he  urged, 
"the  rarest  chance  in  the  world.  The — well,  I 
won't  name  it,  but  a  stock  I  have  been  watching  is 
going  down  with  a  rush ;  is  now  down  to  forty,  and 
will  in  a  few  days,  perhaps  a  day  or  two,  be  down 
to  twenty,  possibly  ten.  It  is  a  panic,  but  the 
panic  over,  the  stock  will  take  a  sudden  rise  and  go 


404 


BRINKA  : 


up  with  just  as  great  a  rush — up  to  eighty  at  least, 
a  hundred  most  likely.  Now  is  your  time  to  buy. 
I  have  never  yet  been  mistaken.  I  am  called  the 
stock  wizard,  you  know.  I  have  had  dozens  ask 
me  by  letter,  wliile  we  were  in  Los  Angeles  for  a 
tip  on  this  very  stock — its  chances,  you  know.  But 
I  have  kept  mum.  It  is  well  to  have  a  genius  for 
something,  and  my  genius  lies  in  stocks." 

"  Why  don't  you  buy  up  this  stock  for  yourself 
and  realize  the — " 

"  Oh,  I  am  tired  of  making  money  for  myself! 
I  have  more  than  I  want  now,"  returned  Blythe, 
with  his  inevitable  laugh.  "It  is  for  you  to  go  into 
this.  You  need  money  to  go  the  Duke  one  better. 
Besides,  you  should  have  money  for  money's  sake. 
Without  money  you  are  nothing;  let  the  world  wag 
as  it  will  about  genius.  If  your  genius  cannot  com- 
mand money  you  had  better  go  and  hang  yourself — 
or  go  into  trade." 

"  Or  into  the  Stock  Exchange  and  turn  dross  into 
gold." 

"  It  is  not  every  one  who  can  make  money  at 
stock-broking,"  returned  Blythe. 

"  I  have  often  marveled  at  and  wished  to  know 
the  secret  of  your  success,"  I  said. 

"  It  is  as  much  a  gift  as  music  or  any  other  art — 
not  a  high  order  of  gift,  but  a  gift  all  the  same." 

"  Perhaps  the  wheel  of  fortune  will  make  a  wrong 
turn,  and  you  will  find  yourself  out  this  time  and 
I  the  loser  of—" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  vehemently  interrupted  Blythe. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


405 


"  I  shall  be  on  my  guard ;  I  am  always  on  my 
guard.  I  shall  know  when  to  stop.  Any  one  can 
dodge  a  wrong  turn  of  the  wheel  if  watchful." 

"  And  knows  how,"  I  added. 

"  Once  you  hold  a  few  millions  in  your  hand 
(hereBlythe  sank  his  voice),  just  think  of  the  power 
you  will  hold  over  the  Duke  of  Chillingford.  He 
worships  millions,  and  no  wonder.  Falling  heir  to 
an  empty  title  as  he  did,  with  an  old  castle  almost 
in  ruins,  filled  with  rats  and  owls  and  not  a  cent  to 
back  it,  when  his  American  speculations  prospered, 
why — "  and  Ely  the  paused. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  I  returned,  and  I  paused.  I  had 
thought  of  the  power,  as  Blythe  expressed  it,  I 
should  hold  over  Mr.  Vaughan  as  the  strongest  ar- 
gument in  favor  of  his  proposition,  and  my  last 
conversation  with  Mr.  Vaughan  and  his  multiplied 
insults  came  back  so  forcibly  and  so  gallingly  to 
my  mind  that  I  exclaimed,  with  a  sudden  impulse : 

"  It  seems  a  weak  thing  to  let  some  one  else  do 
for  me  what  I  have  not  the  gumption  to  do  for  my- 
self, but  if  you  will,  Blythe,  you  may  try.  I  will 
put  a  check  in  your  hands  for  all  I  own.  Even  Pro- 
fessor Wye  is  inoculated  with  your — " 

"  Propagandism  of  my  faith  in  millions,"  returned 
Blythe. 

"And  has  suggested  that  it  would  be  well  for  me 


"  To  try  it,"  supplemented  Blythe.      "All  right, 
Wye,  the  sooner  the  better." 

The  result  was  that  within  three  weeks  I  was  one 


406  BRINK  A  : 

of  the  millionaires.  It  was  a  sort  of  presto-change  ! 
a  legerdemain  proceeding  to  me,  but  none  the  less  a 
fact.  And  I  felt  triumphant,  exultant  in  the  fact,  so 
much  had  the  taunts  of  Mr.  Vaughan  (or  the  Duke 
of  Chillingford,  as  I  thought  of  him  of  late)  about 
my  poverty,  outweighed  with  me  all  my  former  in- 
difference to  money. 

We  had  been  back  at  Elm  Ridge  but  little  over 
three  weeks,  when  Blythe  showed  me  a  letter  from 
Chillingford,  dated  at  Yokohama,  asking  about  the 
very  stock  Blythe  had  bought  up,  and  sold,  so  suc- 
cessfully for  me. 

"  I  have  just  replied  to  his  letter,"  said  Blythe, 
"  and  had  the  supreme  satisfaction  of  telling  him,  that 
the  flurry  was  all  over,  and  that  you,  Caryl  Wye, 
having  invested,  had  realized  from  it  several  mill- 
ions. Chillingford  will  put  my  information  in  his 
pipe  and  smoke  it  until  he  will  be  glad  to  look  on 
you  as  his  possible  future  son-in-law.  And  being 
able  to  write  it  is  worth  a  million  to  me." 

Blythe  had  a  way  of  looking  upon  millions  much 
as  he  would  on  ten-pins,  to  be  bowled  off,  one  or 
ten,  at  a  roll  of  the  ball,  and  set  up  again  at  will. 
His  lavish  expenditure  was  calculated  to  take  the 
breath  away  from  ordinary  individuals.  But  if  any 
one  could  afford  lavish  expenditure,  he  could — "All 
he  touches  turns  to  gold  "  being  the  common  saying 
among  his  brothers  of  the  Stock  Exchange,  in  re- 
ferring to  him. 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  407 


XL. 

"  HE'S  COME." 

I  TRIED  many  diversions  to  arouse  myself  from 
my  heavy-heartedness ;  but  one  fixed  idea  re- 
mained with  me,  refusing  to  yield  to  any  diversion. 
I  thought  much  and  long  of  Brinka,  living  over  in 
imagination  the  sunniest  hours  I  had  passed  by  her 
side,  until  they  became  so  real  to  me  that  each  time 
I  awoke  to  the  consciousness  of  her  absence  and 
the  uncertainty  as  to  when,  if  ever,  I  might  see  her 
again — for  it  required  more  faith  than  I  could  mus- 
ter to  think  her  father  would  relent  in  my  favor — 
it  was  with  a  shock,  a  sense  of  loss,  a  rush  of  regret 
that  left  me  numbed  and  chilled. 

I  undertook  some  business  for  the  Professor,  who 
owned  lands  up  in  the  Northwestern  part  of  the 
State,  thinking  attention  to  business  might  distract 
me  a  little  from  my  brooding  melancholy.  And  pass- 
ing through  the  old  township  of  Salisbury,  I  was 
interested  for  an  hour  or  so  in  an  old  house,  almost 
in  ruins,  that  was  built  by  one  of  the  early  Living- 
stons in  Colonial  times.  It  was  a  substantially  built 
house  of  irregular  blocks  of  the  marble  or  limestone 
of  the  region,  the  timbers  being  of  solid  oak,  and 
the  nails  forged  by  hand.  The  house  was  large, 


408  BRIKKA  : 

with  odd  rooms  and  passages,  and  deep  recessed 
windows,  and  was  an  important  manor-house  in  its 
time.  Its  gambrel  roof  and  mixture  of  warm-tinted 
stone  and  wood  gave  it  an  exceedingly  quaint  and 
picturesque  appearance.  It  was  a  house  of  tradi- 
tions, one  being  that  it  was  occupied  by  a  branch 
of  the  original  Livingstons,  and  that  General 
Montgomery,  who  married  one  of  the  Livingston 
daughters,  stayed  at  the  house  for  a  time  previous 
to  his  going  to  Canada,  where  he  was  killed  in 
battle. 

On  my  return  to  Elm  Ridge,  more  impatient  than 
ever  with  the  destiny  that  kept  me  parted  from 
Brinka,  I  was  walking  home  from  the  Groton  Ferry, 
too  unhappy  and  indifferent  to  call  a  hack,  when, 
just  as  I  had  passed  the  charred  ruins  of  the 
haunted  house,  a  carriage  overtook  me,  and  Li- 
sette's  piquante  little  French  face  obtruded  itself 
from  the  carriage  window,  and  Lisette's  thin,  high- 
pitched  French  voice  exclaimed : 

"  Monsieur,  Monsieur  Wye  !" 

With  my  heart  in  my  throat  I  hastened  to  the 
carriage,  and  there  I  saw,  on  the  back  seat,  the 
Countess  Brinka  and  the  Lady  Griselda. 

"  We  have  come,  Caryl !"  my  darling  exclaimed, 
extending  her  small  gloved  hand  to  me — "  we  have 
come  all  the  way  from  Yokohama.  We  are  on  our 
way  to  Elm  Ridge  to  make  a  call  on  Mrs.  Rep- 
sneider  and  dear  Mrs.  Blythe  and — and  you." 

"  I  connived  at  this,  Mr.  Wye.  I  released  my 
cousin  Brinka  from  captivity.  It  was  with  my 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS,  409 

unqualified  sanction  we  left  Yokohama  and — and 
my  cousin  Harold."  The  Lady  Griselda  had 
offered  me  her  long,  rather  bony  hand,  and  having 
Brinka's  hand  grasped  in  my  right,  I  took  the  Lady 
Griselda's  in  my  left  hand,  and  held  them  both  with 
a  firm  grip,  looking  into  Brinka's  dark,  resplendent 
eyes,  unable  to  trust  myself  to  words. 

I  got  into  the  carriage  at  Brinka's  request,  and, 
as  we  drove  on  to  Elm  Ridge,  I  realized,  with  a 
pang  at  my  heart,  that  she  was  but  a  shadow  of  her 
former  self.  The  Lady  Griselda,  further  than  some 
such  trite  remark  as  that  life  at  Yokohama,  being 
so  entirely  different  from  European  or  American 
life,  was  not  pleasant,  said  little.  But  she  smiled ; 
and  in  the  knowledge  that  she  was  the  ministering 
angel  who  effected  Brinka's  escape  from  Yokohama 
to  Elm  Ridge,  her  smile  was  glorified  in  my  eyes 
into  the  "  thing  of  beauty  that  is  a  joy  forever." 

Brinka  and  I  took  a  walk  together  soon  after  we 
arrived  at  Elm  Ridge,  and  tiring  of  the  keen  March 
air,  we  wandered  into  the  winter  garden  the  Pro- 
fessor had  so  bountifully  adorned  with  every  va- 
riety of  Southern  shrub,  and  which  Ben  Law,  the  gar- 
dener, with  his  under-gardeners,  so  skillfully  kept 
up.  Sitting  on  a  rustic  seat,  under  some  palms, 
with  the  sun  shining  through  the  glass  warmly 
down  on  us,  Brinka  told  me,  her  voice  trembling  as 
she  spoke,  of  the  hard  time  she  had  had  with  her 
father  in  Yokohama. 

"At  length  we  had  a  terrible  quarrel,  Caryl,"  she 
proceeded,  "  and  all  because  I  stoutly  said  I  would 


4io 


BRINKA  : 


n3t  give  you  up,  and  because  I  would  not  promise 
to  marry  the  Marquis  of  Tyne,  who  had  joined  us 
at  Yokohama  avowedly  to  propose  for  my  hand. 
My  father  was  as  cold  as  death,  and  as  inexorable. 
He  said  a  great  many  hard,  cruel  things  to  me,  to 
which  I  made  him  no  reply.  Finding  he  could  not 
make  me  promise  to  marry  the  Marquis,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  the  extremity  of  locking  me  in  my  room, 
to  bring  me  to  reason,  he  said.  Cousin  Griselda 
was  greatly  incensed  at  this  and  at  my  father,  and, 
watching  her  opportunity,  she  found  a  key  that 
would  open  my  door,  and,  arranging  all,  left  Yoko- 
hama with  me  in  the  night.  We  stole  out  of  the 
house  like  thieves,  Lisette  making  a  package  of  our 
clothing  for  us.  I  am  glad  now  that  I  did  not  say 
anything  disrespectful  to  my  father  through  it  all, 
though  the  taunting,  bitter  things  he  uttered  to  me 
sorely  tempted  me." 

I  talked  with  Brinka  until  she  grew  smiling  and 
serene ;  and  day  by  day,  as  the  strained  look  left 
her  beautiful  eyes,  and  she  became  less  pale  and 
anxious,  she  seemed  more  like  herself.  Her  voice 
had  lost  none  of  its  power  and  sweetness,  and  she 
seemed  to  never  weary  of  singing,  and  I  never 
wearied  of  hearing  her  sing. 

The  Professor  was  so  kind  to  her  and  so  con- 
siderate, and  knew  so  well  what  to  say  and  how 
to  say  it,  that  I  loved  and  admired  him,  if  possible, 
more  than  ever. 

"  My  dear  Caryl,"  he  and  I  were  talking  together, 
"I  would  be  in  no  haste;  I  would  not  urge  the 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 


411 


Countess  Brinka  to  any  immediate  step  in  your 
favor.  Mr.  Vaughanby  this  time  has  Blythe's  letter 
and  knows  of  your  millions ;"  and  the  Professor 
regarded  me  with  a  more  intent  look,  his  fine  face 
lighted  by  a  smile,  adding :  "  Let  the  leaven  work. 
He  has  had  a  serious  lesson  in  the  justifiable  step 
his  daughter  has  taken  in  leaving  him.  It  will  not 
be  many  weeks  before  he  will  be  here,  too  proud, 
of  course,  to  own  in  words  his  mistake,  but  none 
the  less  willing  to  accept  the  existing  state  of  things, 
and  you  with  them." 

"  Your  advice  is  good,  my  dear  Professor,"  I 
returned  ;  "  and,  although  I  feel  like  quarreling  with 
the  Duke  on  personal  grounds,  still,  bearing  in 
mind  that  he  is  Brinka's  father,  I  shall  not  only  for- 
give him  when  he  comes — should  he  come — but 
will  heap  coals  of  fire  on  his  ducal  head  by  forget- 
ting all  the  disagreeable  past." 

There  was  such  a  look,  not  only  of  approval  but 
of  profound  affection  for  me  in  the  Professor's 
grand,  dark  gray  eyes,  that,  had  he  been  my  adopted 
mother  instead  of  my  adopted  father,  I  should  have 
thrown  my  arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him 
then  and  there. 

Roy  came  to  me,  one  day,  looking  handsomer 
and  happier  than  I  had  ever  seen  him,  although  he 
was  always  looking  handsome  and  happy  of  late. 

"  My  dear  Caryl !"  he  exclaimed,  "  your  lovely 
sister  has  named  the  day.  I  have  reproached  my- 
self over  and  over  again  for  my  own  exceeding  hap- 
piness during  these  long,  dismal  weeks  to  you,  of 


412 


BRINK  A  .• 


your  separation  from — my  sister  Brinka — my  sister 
that  is  to  be,"  Roy  corrected  himself  with  one  of  his 
gay  laughs.  "  But,  now  that  we  are  both  at  the 
high-tide  of  happiness,  and  that  you  have  no  longer 
the  set,  determined  look  of  one  who  would  not 
own  he  was  beaten,  I  could  dance  for  very  joy — if 
hopping  and  skipping  and  leaping  about  for  a  man 
of  twenty-five  would  not  be  considered  a  rather  un- 
dignified mode  of  expressing  joy." 

"  I  have  only  to  say,  Roy,"  I  returned,  "  that  you 
will  have  a  good  wife,  and  Cecil  will  have  a  good 
husband." 

"An  Iliad  in  brief,"  Roy  supplemented. 

I  took  an  occasion  to  go  to  New  York  to  make 
certain  purchases  connected  with  a  certain  anticipa- 
ted event,  and  I  went  down  the  Sound  in  the  night- 
boat,  as  it  would  take  me  but  one  day  away  from 
the  side  of  Brinka. 

I  found  Captain  Corrie  on  the  boat,  and  he  in- 
formed me  that  Ranee  Noney  and  Wiry  Jack  had 
both  been  tried  on  a  charge  of  housebreaking,  and 
had  just  received  their  sentence  of  ten  years  each 
in  Sing  Sing.  Captain  Corrie  took  from  his  pocket 
a  newspaper,  pointing  to  a  paragraph  among  the 
New  York  City  items  to  the  effect  that  a  woman 
who  had  met  with  an  accident,  breathed  long  enough 
only  to  say  her  name  was  Nancy  Redwood. 

"  I  am  on  my  way  to  the  city,  and  to  the  hospital 
to  identify  her,"  he  said.  "  Would  you  like  to  accom- 
pany me  the  first  thing  on  the  boat's  landing,  Mr. 
Wye?" 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

i 

Thinking  it  would  be  a  friendly  act  to  Captain 
Corrie,  and  that  I  could  not  employ  the  early 
morning  hours  on  my  own  business,  I  acqui- 
esced. 

We  passed,  on  our  way  to  the  hospital,  after 
reaching  New  York,  through  street  after  street  in 
the  slums  of  the  city,  where  the  brimming-over 
population  crowded  thickly  on  each  other ;  where 
the  air  was  reeking  with  the  refuse  in  the  gutters ; 
where  the  little  children  that  swarmed  up  from 
the  cellars,  or  down  from  the  attics,  made  the 
sordid  thoroughfares  alive  with  noise — such  a 
confusion  of  tongues  as  the  tower  of  Babel  might 
have  witnessed. 

There  was  very  little  trouble  in  identifying  the 
woman,  or  what  had  been  a  woman,  as  Nancy  Red- 
wood. She,  it,  was  dressed  in  untidy  female  attire, 
having  probably  given  up  dressing  as  a  man  since 
the  capture  of  Ranee  Noney  and  Wiry  Jack.  Not  a 
vestige  of  the  proud,  fiery  beauty  that  had  so  fatally 
charmed  and  entangled  Captain  Corrie  was  left  in 
that  blotched  and  bloated  visage.  Even  her  hair,  that 
I  remembered  so  bright  and  glossy  and  red  and 
crisp  with  curls,  lay  sodden  and  matted,  streaked 
with  dirty  white.  All  the  rancor  that  years  before 
I  had  garnered  so  hotly  in  my  heart  fell  away  into 
the  depths  to  which  she  had  fallen. 

Captain  Corrie  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  longer, 
saying  nothing ;  and  then,  giving  some  directions 
about  her  burial,  for  which  he  was  to  pay,  we  left 
the  hospital. 


414 


BRINK  A  : 


When  I  returned  home,  Mrs.  Ely  the,  who  had 
been  watching  for  me,  met  me  at  the  door. 

"  He's  come  !  The  Duke  has  come,  Caryl.  He  is 
with  the  Countess  Brinka  and  the  Lady  Griselda, 
as  bland  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  He  has 
certainly  come !  There,  didn't  I  say  all  that  right  ? 
I've  been  studying  it  over  and  over." 

"  You  certainly  did,  Mrs.  Blythe,"  I  replied,  for  I 
had  been  noting  the  measured  way  in  which  she 
had  been  enunciating;  noting  also  her  news. 

"  I  shall  in  time  git — get  to  talk  like  other  peo- 
ple and  be  a  credit  to  my  boy,"  she  added,  the  tears 
moistening  her  round,  soft,  blue,  baby-like  eyes. 
"  Owen  says  he'll  never  marry — that  he'll  oilers 
— always  stay  with  me.  And  one  reason  why  he 
won't  marry — for  he  told  me — is  because  he'll 
never  be  able  to  find  another  Countess  Brinka." 


We  had  a  very  quiet,  home-like  wedding,  and 
were  married  at  Elm  Ridge,  contrary  to  the  Duke's 
predilection  for  Chillingford  Castle,  or  at  the  least 
his  Fifth  Avenue  residence.  But  he  had  grown  so 
suave  that  he  yielded  to  everything  Brinka  wished, 
and  she  preferred  Cecil's  and  my  home. 

Roy  Hildreth's  aunt  from  Louisiana  and  his 
uncle  from  Arizona,  as  yellow  as  the  gold  of  his 
mines,  were  present  at  the  double  wedding,  for 
Roy  and  Cecil  had  hastened  the  day  first  named, 
in  order  to  make  the  two  occasions  one. 

Harding  Baker  (Hard  Bake)  and  Paron  Hedrick 
(Punkin  Head),  now  a  flourishing  firm  of  rising 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS.  4 T  5 

lawyers,  also  were  present.  I  wished  to  ask  Cap- 
tain Corrie,  but  in  consideration  to  the  opinions  of 
the  Duke,  and  in  deference  to  popular  prejudice,  I 
omitted  the  invitation,  sending  him  and  the  gentle 
little  hair-dresser,  Sam  Bowen,  some  of  the  wedding 
favors. 

Glencairn,  the  Earl  of  Baysfield,  was  one  of  th^ 
guests,  and  reminded  me,  in  a  side-talk  we  had,  of 
his  prognostic  that  within  two  years  he  would  dance 
at  my  wedding. 

The  Duke  and  he  had  buried  the  hatchet,  and 
all  was  harmonious  between  them  once  more. 

The  Austrian  nobleman,  whose  son  Marco  had 
rescued  from  drowning,  was  making  a  tour  of  the 
United  States,  and  chanced,  before  the  important 
day,  upon  Elm  Ridge,  to  pay  his  respects  to  Pro- 
fessor Wye,  with  whom  he  had  kept  up  a  corres- 
pondence. He  remained  over  on  the  Professor's 
invitation,  and  was  charmed  with  the  munificence 
and  exquisite  taste  of  all  the  appointments,  and 
was  especially  charmed  with  the  extreme  loveliness 
of  the  two  brides. 

The  Duke  of  Chillingford  was  greatly  gratified 
at  his  presence  and  coolly  beamed  his  satisfaction. 

Marco,  in  his  emerald  collar,  bearing  himself 
majestically,  recollected  the  father  of  the  boy  he 
had  drawn  from  the  sea,  and  gave  him  a  cordial 
reception. 

Just  after  the  double  ceremony  had  taken  place, 
and  Brinka  was  no  longer  Miss  Vaughan,  and  Cecil 
was  no  longer  Miss  Leighton — the  Duke  of  Chill- 


416  BRINKA: 

ingford  giving  his  daughter  away  and  Professor 
Wye  giving  away  my  sister — Cecil  received  a  card 
of  invitation  from  Mrs.  Wagner,  soliciting  her 
attendance  at  the  wedding  of  that  lady  to  Mr. 
Rongue,  the  legal  gentleman  with  the  black,  bilious 
scowl,  who  had  appropriated  the  diamonds  of  Mr. 
Eugene  Leighton — my  father.  It  was  Lisette  who 
brought  the  card  to  Cecil,  deeming  it  of  importance. 

"  You  accept,  of  course,  Mrs.  Hildreth  ?"  said 
Roy,  lightly  accenting  her  new  name. 

Cecil,  with  a  pretty  blush,  replied,  "  No,  indeed !" 
and  passed  the  card  to  Brinka. 

"  A  well-matched  pair !"  exclaimed  Brinka,  hold- 
ing the  card  for  me  to  read. 

"How  is  that,  my  dear?"  asked  Mr.  Vaughan, 
much  as  though  he  thought  Brinka  meant  herself 
and  me  as  the  well-matched  pair.  "  Um — m,"  he 
added,  as  Brinka  handed  him  the  card. 

Professor  Wye  just  then  offered  his  arm  to 
Brinka,  and  giving  our  arms  to  the  ladies  nearest 
us,  I  conducting  the  Lady  Griselda,  the  Austrian 
nobleman,  resplendent  with  medals  of  many  orders, 
securing  my  sister  (Cecil  never  was  prettier),  in 
procession  we  sought  the  supper  tables  that 
•"  groaned  "  under  their  delicacies. 

In  the  same  bay-window  where  I,  a  boy  of  seven, 
first  saw  Professor  Wye,  was  he  sitting  one  day, 
dandling  an  infinitesimal  likeness  to  Brinka,  clad 
in  soft,  white  traceries  immensely  long  of  skirt. 
The  nurse,  with  apprehensive  look,  as  fearing  the 


AN  AMERICAN  COUNTESS. 

fate  of  said  Infinitesimal  in  inexperienced  hands, 
stood  by,  received  back  her  charge,  all  smiling  and 
crowing,  and  withdrew. 

After  some  retrospective  talk  with  Brinka  and 
me,  who  were  sitting  near,  the  Professor  said: 
"  You  certainly,  my  dear  children,  are  what  I 
always  thought  you  would  be — a  well-matched 
pair."  And  with  one  of  the  rarest  of  his  smiles  he 
arose  and  left  the  room. 

"  The  little  boy  you  shielded  from  worse,  prob- 
ably, than  hot  sun  or  dusty  road,"  I  said  to  Brinka; 
"  the  youth  whose  aspirations  you  approved  with 
the  suggestion  that  he  was  not  yet  '  finished ; '  the 
man  to  whom  you  acknowledged  that  you  had 
'  grown  up  accepting/  finds  every  fibre  of  his  being 
supplemented  and  filled  in  this  union  with  you, 
beautiful  wife." 

"  May  he  never  regret  his  gift  of  this  ring,  nor 
my  startling  '  proposal '  to  him  when  I  was  eight 
years  old,"  returned  Brinka,  fervently. 


My  father-in-law  and  I  were  always  intensely 
civil  to  each  other.  He  spoke  of  me  with  cool 
pride  as  "my  son, the  author  of — "  such  or  such  a 
musical  production  that  was  gaining  in  public  favor ; 
and  he  generally  added  that  my  industry  as  a  com- 
poser of  music  was  more  commendable,  inasmuch 
as  the  millions  I  owned  rendered  industry  on  my 
part  entirely  needless. 

THE    END. 


A    000091552    o 

m " 


